Coincidences and Random Impressions

Back in 2003, one of my colleagues in Washington, DC happened to be Nicaraguan. Well, five years later and following a completely random turn of events, I am working with his father at the MCC’s counterpart office in Nicaragua. Both of them have the same first and last name, so it’s almost like I’m working with the same person. I guess things like this shouldn’t surprise me anymore. Isn’t the popular belief that there are at most six degrees of separation between two people? Well, then it turned out that a Bolivian couple I met last weekend knows my DC colleague’s sister who lives in Miami. All in all, since I came to Nicaragua I turn out to be connected to quite a few people through this one family.

Not quite as surprising, but I also recently learned that one of my colleagues here lived in Bulgaria for eight years, back in 80s. Of course, Nicaragua and Bulgaria were connected in a lot of ways back in the days of Communism. Which might explain the slight pang of nostalgia I feel when I see a Lada on the streets here.

For some reason, and I still can’t quite figure it out yet, people here have significant difficulty pronouncing my name, although the “tz” exists in other names I’ve come across here (like Maritza and Vinnitza). People don’t seem to have any problem pronouncing those. From Denitzia to Denicsa (with a lot of emphasis on the “c”) to Denits, I am making a lot of new additions to an already existing database of permutations of my name.

I still have some difficulty coming to terms with the fact that people here treat me differently – in the sense that they always think I need special treatment because I´m an intern from the US: like riding up front in a car and not in the back, drinking soda (which is more expensive) and not just plain water, needing the entrance door to the office to be opened for me by a guard (when I really don’t), etc. I understand they are just trying to be polite and hospitable, but it makes me feel really strange getting this preferential treatment, so to speak. I guess, until recently, many of my indirect colleagues didn’t even know I was Bulgarian. And given that the projects we are working on here are sponsored by US funds, a sort of deference is paid to anyone who comes from the US.

The inequality here, as in most of the rest of Central and South America, is quite staggering. And while I feel bad or guilty that I am able to enjoy a lot of privileges that the majority of people here can’t, that does not seem to be the case with most of the well-off Nicas. I almost get this sense of entitlement emanating from them and I can’t help but feel a little angry. Being in one of the poorest countries in the Western Hemisphere has stirred up a lot of emotions, but I haven’t really been able to sort through them yet.