Excuses, excuses…

9-7-11

Last week, my ADESCO directiva and I went door to door asking if people were interested in taking a free baking class next month.  A lot of women (and some teenagers) were interested, but when we told them it was a 200 hour class that would be five days a week, six hours a day, for about six and a half weeks, they all had the same predictable concerns…

“But I have to cook lunch for my husband; I can’t be out of the house all day.”

“What about the limpieza (housecleaning)?”

“Well, I have lots of meetings to go to, like the ADESCO and women’s group meetings.”

“I can probably only come two days a week.  Is that okay?”

“I can come, but only in the mornings.”

“I can bring my toddlers, right?”

Sigh.  Getting people to do anything here can be like pulling teeth.  My community has literally been pushing me to help them start a panadería for over a year now.  With the help of family and friends back home, I feel pretty confident that I can get us money for a decent oven (yes, you will all be hearing more about that in the future), but before I rally the troops to get us said oven, these women have to be properly trained.  There’s no way I’m sticking my neck out and asking people I know for money when I’m not even sure my community can commit to doing a two month training!

I’ve really made this as easy as I possibly can.  The teachers are going to come to our community and bring all the supplies needed to teach the class – oven, tables, baking pans, flour, sugar, everything – and they’re doing it all 100% free.  My women don’t even need bus fare to go to Chalate for the classes…just walk down the street!

I know it’s hard.  Everybody has commitments.  Despite the fact that they don’t have regular work, these women keep busy.  One of the first things I did during training was shadow a member of my host family – my old host mother, Conchita – for a day.  When I asked her what time we would be getting up, she told me, “Oh, I don’t get up that early like some women.  Probably about six.”  Accordingly, we got up at six, and didn’t sit down again until lunch.  The women here have intense demands on their time – all household chores take longer here, because they don’t have labor saving technology.  They have to wash all their clothes by hand, often in the river.  Keeping the house clean is harder too, since the dust and mud is constantly blowing in through cracks.  Most Salvadoran women I know sweep and mop twice a day.  They cook all the meals, starting at 4:30 or 5, before their husbands go off to the milpa to work.  The make their tortillas from scratch, heading to the communal mill in the center of the village at 5:30 am to grind their corn.  (Yet another reason why I don’t eat tortillas.  I’d be more likely to shave my head bald than get up to grind corn before the sun’s out.  I’m pretty confident I could rock a bald head, Sinead O’conner-style.  Morning, on the other hand, does not look good on me.)  For lunch, they almost always make a full vegetable and rice soup, often accompanied by salad, tortillas, and if they have the money, fried chicken.  Many women also supplement their family’s limited income by selling products they make or grow – vegetables, honey, bread, and cheramuzcos (which are like flavored ice pops in a bag).  And of course, they do all this while caring for their numerous children.

So yeah, I get it.  As Niña Angelita always says to me, “La vida cuesta mucho aquí.”  Life here is hard.  That said, most families live together with relatives in family compounds.  Children, parents, grandparents, and often great-grandparents are all under one roof, often with some aunts, uncles, or cousins tossed in.  Families here help each other.  The grandmother helps watch the grandkids.  The grandfather helps his son and grandson in the field.  When things come up, they manage.  I’ve seen it.  I know that it’s hard, but this is two months of free training to gain a skill that will help these women contribute to their family’s income for the rest of their lives.  This is what they’ve been bugging me to help them do for months.

Needless to say, some of their reluctance is pissing me off.

Cruz went with me to invite people, and I was glad.  She could (and did) say to them things that might be insensitive coming from me.  She told them, “Make your family’s meals the day before, give your kids to your mom to watch, and for God’s sake, let your husband wash dishes for once.  It’s possible, I promise.”  Okay, I might have added that last sentence for emphasis.  But it’s true.  It’s completely possible for someone with a penis to wash dishes and sweep the floor.  No, it won’t make you gay.  Or a woman.  Swear to God.

Sorry, a year and a half here, and the machismo is really getting to me.

Anyway, in the end, about thirty people said they’d be interested in the training, so we managed to talk most people around.  Will they all show up the meeting when the woman from Fomilenio comes?  Probably not.  But we only need twenty to commit to this training, and I’m confident we can get that.