Birthday a la Nicaragua

My brother’s 23rd birthday was Friday, giving me my first experience of a Nica birthday. We started celebrating at 5:30 am by playing at max volume a CD with about 10 different versions of the Nicaraguan birthday song (no, it’s not your typical ‘Happy Birthday’ tune). Keep in mind that the houses here share walls, so anything above the level of normal conversation can be heard by the neighbors. The loud music lets the world know that, hey, today is someone’s birthday.

When I left the house at 6:30 to go to work, I hadn’t even seen my brother yet, but I heard him talking on the phone to people who were calling with their happy birthday wishes. (Special note: Please call me on my birthday, but not at 6am.)

The tradition here is to prepare a big cena for all the guests. Violeta’s aunt made tajadas con pollo (thinly sliced platano, then fried, served with chicken). Violeta and I made the ensalada to go along with it (cabbage with tomato, vinegar, and salt). I made some cookies for dessert and we bought some soda for the guests. It was really a large amount of food and I lament not having taken a picture of the preparation and presentation. Basically the way it works is that the family members start arriving around 6 or so. They come with (or without) a gift and you serve them a plate of food with a cup of soda. They chill for a little bit, tell you felicidades for making it another year, and then they head out. It’s pretty great.

Birthdays here are a pretty big deal. At the school where I work there is a monthly celebration for people with birthdays in that month. They get some cake, soda, a card, and a small gift. Yesterday I went to a friend’s house for his birthday, and today was the birthday of a co-worker. After witnessing so much celebration I have decided that people here really out-do us back in the states. Before you can eat your cake, people sing at least four different birthday songs. (Then the last song is the one that goes ‘We’re ready for cake now! Even if it’s only a tiny piece, let’s eat!’)

Oddly enough it makes me think of JW’s that don’t celebrate birthdays. Do we celebrate ourselves too much? I don’t think so. I mean, let’s not go overboard and build a shrine or anything, but it’s a great time to remind people that they’re special and that, HEY! I’m glad you were born :)

I Saw the Sign

My first introduction to Nicaraguan sign language was the same day I learned that the letter ‘T’ in ASL is actually a vulgar sign in Nicaragua, and that there are a few other differences between the manual alphabets in Nicaragua and back in the states. I was trying to spell (in sign language) my name for this eight year old girl, but when I got to the ‘T’ the look on her face told me something was wrong.

When I started my sign language classes at the school, I didn’t understand at first why my teacher wouldn’t open the door when somebody knocked. After the knocking happened four or five times, I remembered that my teacher was deaf. Duh. I guess I would have ignored the knocking also.

I’ve had a few incidences like that (when I forget that deaf people can’t hear) and I continue to talk to them as if they can. Well, sort of. Since sign language is basically an abbreviation of written and spoken language, I tend to reduce my words to just basic verbs, and in the wrong tenses. Luckily, they can’t hear my twisted Spanish, so I’m OK until an oyente comes around.

I started learning sign language by making my way through Nicaragua’s sign language dictionary, which contains about 200 pages. My teacher and some of the students helped me. After a few weeks I decided to really test my knowledge of sign language by picking a book from the library to translate. The book of choice was Curious George. With a little help, I was able to sign my way through the first adventure of Jorge el curioso and his friend, the man with the big yellow hat. Next on the list- Jorge el Curioso Monta en Bicicleta. ¡Qué emoción!