The Good Life

My host mom Candida lives on a street surrounded by her relations, most importantly her two sisters. Next door her sister Isabel lives.  The houses share a wall and in the wall there is a window so that the sisters can talk to each other without leaving their kitchens. They don’t do that much, though.  Isabel is older than Candida and they had different fathers.  Every morning when I get up early to read before the day starts, I sit by an open front door to watch the world, and Isabel, stick-thin, partly deaf and not seeing so well either, is out in the street, dressed for the day in her long skirt and old sweater before nearly anyone is about.  She is sweeping the gutters in from of her own house and Candida’s as well.  She is also trimming the plants in front of the houses by pinching off over-zealous runners and cutting off roses which end up in front of a Virgin in her house or maybe in the church. In Isabel’s house live assorted grown children, grandchildren and a great grandchild. Isabel is religious but she’s not a big church-goer unlike her two sisters. 

Abutting Isabel’s house on the other side is the house of the other sister, Dona Celia. Celia is closer in age to Candida than is Isabel, and Celia and Candida had the same father. Candida and Celia are very close.  They both spend the mornings working in their respective houses, but they spend most afternoons visiting each other.  Candida will walk up past Isabel’s house to Celia’s or Celia will walk into our house calling out for La Candita.

Candida and Celia have a lot in common. They are both taller than the average Nicaraguan. Both live alone (except, of course, for me in Candida’s house).  Both have married children and grandchildren in the pueblo, but both have unmarried daughters who live elsewhere. Both are pillars of the church, intensely religious.  There are differences, too.  Celia was a school teacher.  She is educated.  Candida refers me to her when I ask a question she can’t answer. That difference in education matters not at all as far as I can see in their devotion to each other.

Candida and Celia clearly love each other a lot, but there are occasional observable small rivalries among the sisters. For example, Celia just finished putting an addition on her house. I had observed the work from the street but couldn’t see much over the wall that fronts the house.  I had never been invited over to check out the results.  This week, however, Celia’s daughter Marta was visiting her mother.  I like Marta.  She’s 45, single and works for a non-profit in a city a distance from my town.  She has a responsible job working with orphaned or homeless kids.  She invited me over to see that addition which is really amazingly modern, tasteful and commodious. And you can see the differences in the taste and preferences of the two sisters. Celia’s house has greater formality and fewer chatchkes (sp?) like artificial flowers and tacky ceramics and religious icons. When I got back to my house Candida asked me how I liked the changes in Celia’s house. I said they were beautiful and then Candida wanted to know if Celia’s house was better than hers.  Of course not, I lied, but it was interesting to me to see the small competition.

I wondered (to myself) how Celia had afforded such a fine renovation.  She is a retired school teacher.  Candida offered, maybe by way of explanation for the differences in their houses, that Marta paid for the additions.  The plan is that Marta, when she retires, will come live with her mother, which explains a lot.  Similarly Candida’s daughter who lives in Spain will return home to live in her mother’s house.  Candida’s daughter also  is a “soltera” and probably about Marta’s age.

Isabel has her competitive side, too.  One day when we were kibitzing over the wall that separates the two houses, she proudly told me that she had way more children and grandchildren than the other two had and, further, she had a full house, while her two sisters lived alone. So her house may not be so fine, but she has what matters, in her view.  Candida and Celia might just have to agree with her.  Having family around matters a lot and the absence—or inattentiveness-- of children and grandchildren is a great burden, even if the kids live in town. I think that the expectation may be that by the time you are the age of the three sisters, the family should be taking care of you, or at least much in evidence at your house. The daughters and even daughters-in-law pick up the obligation. Candida’s daughter-in-law stops by more often than does her son.  Sons aren’t expected to be around as much although the infrequency of their visits in our house is noted.

But the relations living close by are more numerous than the three sisters.  Candida’s brother lives a block away as do various cousins, nephews, and nieces to the farthest generation. Some new person (new to me) is always dropping by looking for “Tia” (aunt). “Who was that?” I ask Candida. She explains that he is the nephew of her brother’s grandchild.

This boggles the North American mind.  What would it be like if my two sisters lived right next door and my brother a block away? Sounds like a dream to me.  Imagine dropping in on one another, familiar and comfortable like we were when we were kids. Imagine the comfort in talking about not much-- what we were making for dinner, food preferences of the grandchildren, who is doing what in his/her house. Imagine the children and grandchildren all in the same town, wandering from house to house, looked after by a passel  of adults all of whom knew all about them and had a stake in them. Imagine, also, maybe, the boredom, although Candida’s family doesn’t seem bored.  One day I asked her if she missed work, because there are times when she stands at the door watching the world as if looking for something to happen, someone to come by.  The afternoons sometimes hang a little heavy for her.  But he says, no, she’s done with work. It’s time to visit Celia.