I met her within the first 10 min of me entering my house.
Oni lives in a pink house next door to me. Right away she took my hand and
showed me around. We spent the afternoon laughing and joking and I knew then
that we were destined to be great friends.
She is freshly 40 but does not look a day over 30. Oni is quick to smile
and slow to anger. We have spent countless hours together watching movies,
talking about life, and dancing. She loves to throw parties at her house every
Saturday and she invites all the children…and me. Oni also loves to do nails and has made
creations on my nails that put the best nail salon in Philly to shame. Oni also has a great love of educating
herself. She has great pride in her English studies. Her coveted binder is
filled with pictures of animals, colors, and family members written in English.
She loves to greet me with a random “Good Morning. Mother’s house!”
I am not
the first American she has loved. Our first conversations were filled with
musings about “Natasha”. Natasha volunteered with the group Amigos de Americas
and lived in the house behind ours. Natasha spent many days crying from
homesickness and could not speak much Spanish. Oni was the only person that she
felt safe with. Natasha only lived in the community for 3 months but left such
a huge impression on Oni that she sometimes cried. One day she showed me a letter that had been
kept in pristine condition. It was a beautifully etched greeting card with
golden lettering. Oni’s face lit up with pride as she showed me the card and I
hoped that I would make the impact on somebody that shy, homesick Natasha had.
One day
almost put a violent end to our friendship. Oni has 2 children, a boy and a
girl, one day her son was hanging outside my house with a friend of his. I had never seen the friend before. He was a
beautiful brown little boy with cool platinum like chain. He looked like the
boys I taught back in Philly. They were both 11-year-old boys full of fun and
mischief. The friend bopped up to me and
right away began asking me tons of questions. At first they nice innocent
questions like, “ Did you take an airplane here?” “What is it like in the
United States”. However, his questions quickly devolved into inappropriate
sexual questions and questions about body parts. He then in English started to
yell things like “Bend over”. Oni’s son stood by and laughed and said inappropriate
things about drugs with the friend. I
was so confused and angry and hurt. I love children so much and for them to
treat me this way shocked me. Back in
Philly as a teacher, I have meet lots of broken children. Some have tried to
fight me, many have called me out of my name, and one threatened to rape me.
Yet this was Panama, and I knew one of these boys. I said in all the Spanish
that I could muster, “ No Pueden hablar con migo en esta via, Sin repecto” You
can’t talk to me this way without respect.
I walked to the back of my house and went to my room. They followed me into my house and walked
into my room yelling nasty things. I told them to get out and they sat by my
window yelling. I was so hurt and felt
so violated. Oni and her son live next door and I teach him in the school.
However, I did not want anything to do with any of them. It was the first time
during my Peace Corps service that I cried. I felt unsafe. If men or teens saw
what happened they could do the same thing. In Philly, I could cuss them out
and put fear in them. If they knew I wasn’t to be punked out they would be less
likely to try me. But I am a Peace Corps Volunteer. To do that would ruin every
relationship in my village and go against my goals. To make matters worse I had
no idea who the friend belonged too. How could he be held responsible? My host
mom held me and said she would talk to the adults of the children. I shrunk to
my room, meditated and cried myself to sleep.
In the
morning, Oni stood in my doorway and begged me to talk to her. She asked me to
recount everything that happened. As I did, tears welled in her eyes. She was
so hurt by her son’s actions and also felt embarrassed. She told me that she
loved me so much and that she did not want to lose my friendship. She set up a
meeting with her husband and also found the family of the little boy. We sat
and talked about what happened. It turned out that the boy, just like allot of
the kids in Philly, came from a broken home and was most likely being sexually
abused by an American man in his town. My anger for the little boy broke. I
know that brokenness breads brokenness and only love can cure that. Oni’s son
was no longer allowed in my house and later that week I spoke to him. Instead
of yelling I just asked him why he supported and joined in with the harassment.
He said that he was trying to be cool and that he didn’t know how to stop it.
He told me he was sorry and would never do it again.
Everything
is good between us now. We spend most days together and just went out on a
whole day adventure. I was able to salvage my friendship with Oni and it even
became stronger. I learned that at those really low times, my community does
have my back. They know I am here to work with them and to help and they want
me here.
Here are some shots of Oni:
 |
| Oni and I with her sister in the backround :) |
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