Indeed… I am certain that for many different cultural, social, and personal factors… I’ve just never really been a big fan of babies. Being the youngest child probably has had something to do with this: I never had a younger sibling to care for. But ever since I was little, when I’ve seen a baby, I don’t react with gushing or fawning, wanting to pick up and cuddle with the child. And whenever someone asks me to hold a baby, I do so awkwardly, and don’t last more than a few minutes before I pass the kid to someone else.
Nope… I guess that “Mom gene” didn’t quite make it down to me… or at least not for little kids. I get along much better with kids who are, say, 10 and older. And, unlike most people who give teenagers a bad rep, I usually get along and enjoy them. I think the dance along the line between adolescence and adulthood is a beautiful one. And, although I agree that sarcasm and apathy are usually par for the course, I find that most teens are not jaded yet and hold a refreshing hope and passion. I had great relationships with all of the teenaged foreign exchange students my mom hosted while I was in college. And I’d have to say that here, some of my strongest relationships are with teens (Jesica my sister, my friend Leti, the student Sandra). But with little kids… especially babies… I’m at a loss. I can play and tolerate them for a bit… but not for long before I get someone else to takeover. And I’ve always had a legitimate fear of pregnancy. In my opinion… it sounds horrible. I mean, months of aching backs, nausea, being flatulent and constipated, while getting fat do not exactly appeal to me. And it’s not as if this experience ends with a fun ride, it instead ends with a dreadful ordeal that consists of the worst imaginable pain possible. The details of childbirth horrify me and make my stomach churn (unless told by Morgan Freeman, of course).
This, uh, quality of mine (the most euphemistic way I can put it) has been magnified tenfold in this country. I mean… they have kids by the dozen here, and I wish that pregnancy were an Olympic sport, because they’d take gold every time.
Now… I do think that there is a happy byproduct that is indeed cultural to the incredible baby-making rate here. In childrearing, Salvadorans are much more laissez faire than we paranoid Americans: they let the kids run around freely, don’t freak out about scraped knees, and would think the idea of arranging “play-dates” as idiotic. You’ll often see a three-year-old running around with a machete and the mom shaking it off as a good learning experience for the future. And I’ve found that where we would be busy hiring nannies, buying play-pens and high chairs, and covering every outlet with plastic safeguards… Salvo moms instead use a tool that operates as well as all of these childrearing techniques: the boob. I take back that pregnancy should be an Olympic sport, breastfeeding should be. I’ve seen more women breastfeeding here than I’ve seen dogs mating (18 and counting…), and, as an unavoidable consequence: countless boobs. Breasts are not considered private parts here. In addition to seeing tons of women whip out their chichi to feed their kid, I’ve also seen plenty of women bathing in public places topless. And while I think that many Americans overreact to this visceral practice “Miss! How dare you discreetly feed your child underneath that blanket!” I also think that there’s a happier medium to be met than how liberally they use their breasts here. I mean, the moms use nursing as the universal response to any kind of tending a child might need. If the kid’s bored: breastfeed; if the kid’s acting up: breastfeed, if the kid’s feeling sick: breastfeed. And each time the result is a comatose kid passed out in his mother’s lap… like hitting the snooze button on your alarm clock. They also breastfeed longer here, until age three in some cases. I empathize, I understand why the mothers do it; but I also think that for some things there should be a more active, hands-on response (although I guess you can’t really breastfeed without use of your hands).
So, while the general rule of thumb seems to be: ignore the kid until it needs to be breastfed… there are always, inevitably, exceptions. Enter: Alexander, or “Chander.”
From the Sex and the City episode Critical Condition: Carrie is buying lunch with Samantha, trying to convince her to be more sympathetic and involved with Miranda, whose head is spinning after having her baby Brady.
Carrie: I´ll buy you a brownie if you do something for me.
Samantha: What do you need me to do?
Carrie: It´s about Miranda and the baby.
Samantha: Forget the brownie.
Carrie (to the clerk): No... she´ll take the brownie.
Samantha: Babies are not my scene! And from what I´ve heard, this one sounds like an asshole.
Carrie: You can’t call a baby an asshole!
Oh…. yes you can. I make the exception for Chander, who receives groveling attention from everyone, but me. He is the offspring of Carmen, Mari’s sister who lives next door. And since they’re family, and live so close, and don’t have a TV, Carmen and all her four children (including Chander), pretty much spend all day here. And for various reasons, not all of which I understand, everyone dotes on him as if he were made of gold. I think part of it is that he’s the youngest by a great degree… Sulma and Jesica are 12 and 14. And Carmen’s other kids: Beti, Rosemari, and Franklin are 12, 10 and 7. So it does make some sense that the 1-year-old Chander gets fussed over since the kids are of that age. And in another perspective it’s kind of nice; the kids from both families willingly help raise the youngest, not leaving the job entirely to the mother. But I also find that the way they treat him uncharacteristic to normal Salvadoran policy. They smother him with attention and don’t dare discipline him when he hits or screams (which he does all the freaking time). They don’t do this for other kids his age, who are ignored until breastfed. And so I’ve often pondered: what makes Chander so special? And I have a theory that I’m sure is controversial and I’m sure that some of you readers out there will think I’m nuts (but what else is new?).
Here’s the thing. Carmen’s first three kids are with a man who left for the US to work and then left Carmen for another woman. I do feel bad for Carmen, even though her ex is loyal to the kids and regularly sends money, even though they were never married, and even though I suspect that most men who leave their families for years at a time in the States end up taking mistresses anyway, it still sucks to get dumped for another woman no matter how you put it. And I think it’s perfectly natural that she looked for comfort to this blow in other places, with other men… But be careful what you wish for.
When I first arrived here and did the census I found an interesting discovery: that there are a lot more 15-24 year old boys than girls. YIKES! This means that a lot of these eager young bucks start to look for companionship with older women… and older women who have been dumped by their baby-daddies are the next best thing I guess. So… when the 17 year old hormonal Alcide started hanging out with the 28 year old Carmen (who… as much as I like her, would probably be described as having “a good personality” when someone asks what she looks like)… things got a little careless and a little sloppy, and nine months later, Chander was born. Which by the way folks, is statutory in this country too.
This is where things get complicated. As much as I’d like to give them credit… Alcide and Carmen are far from being in love. And even if they were, Carmen is stigmatized as being an “abandoned” woman, and it is virtually too taboo to marry her (I think this is totally unfair, but that’s just the way it is here). So there’s really no future for Carmen and Alcide’s relationship. Alcide is loyal to his son, he visits almost every day and supports Carmen financially, and I don’t think that he’d ever abandon them (financially at least). But… with situations as they are, he has come to look for companionship with other women, closer to his age, with whom he might have a real future.
What makes things really interesting is the fact that Alcide comes from one of the better-off families in Los Cims, who own a bit of land. And here-in-lies what I think gives Chander his special status: he is a symbol of security. I’m not saying that it was Carmen’s plot to get pregnant… I think that this was a mutual accident and that the responsibility of birth control lies within both partners (whoops!). But I have seen such intense sanctioning to Chander: they always call him so special, treat him like a god, and sacrilize him above other kids of the same age whose dads don’t bring in the bacon. Call me crazy and judgmental, but stuff like this happens a lot here. Don Jete is one of the most prominent land-owners (he also has a “good personality” as far as looks go, in my opinion). And in addition to having a wife and kids, has plenty of other lovers (“otras mujeres”) across Los Cims and several other children as a outcome. This is not just me speculating; gossip circulates fast over cases like these. But the story often goes that women flock to the rich men here aiming for security if they produce a child.
And so, I believe Chander receives unfair special treatment, which I do not commend, nor adhere to. And what’s funny about this is: because I pretty much ignore Chander and don’t dote on his every need like everyone else, he is somewhat fascinated by me and follows me around, trying to get my attention even more. Which, despite my lack of maternal instincts, my disgust for YouTube’s obsession with all things cute, and my absolute opposition to the treatment he receives, I sometimes give in and say “AWWWWWWWWWWW!” myself.
Update on more important things I’m doing and not rants about culture: My next project is hosting a weekend camp in the Protected Area, the natural reserve that borders my site. I’ll be collaborating with some other volunteers and kids from different communities. It isn’t huge, nor particularly self sustaining. But it should be fun, and hey, why the hell not?
The lucky one, Chander. Please refrain from any audile remarks acknowledging cuteness.
Carmen on the left with her mama Linda. Is it just me, or does she look a bit older than 28?
Mamma and baby together before he gets baptized.
