Jesus and David – no its not a bible story! – from Panama

 

 

(Both Jesus and David have read and approved of this blog)

I have often been asked by friends and family how I have met many deaf friends in Latin America, here goes:

– The international deaf community is definitely small
– The international deaf and gay community is smaller
– The Latin Deaf Community is small
– The Latin Deaf Gay community is even smaller
– Social media, especially Facebook groups, give that “glue” nowadays

As one perfect example, whilst gallivanting in Mexico I was introduced to you, Jesus, via a mutual deaf friend from Austria, Vanessa, who was meant to meet me in Honduras which got cancelled for a whole host of reasons. I was building up a list of useful contacts as I looked at places to travel ahead and Vanessa mentioned you. Of course there are many guys in the world called Jesus, but never have I had a friend with such a famous name!

We made our acquaintance via social media and quickly connected. I could see you had an aura of warmth, kindness and that you liked meeting deaf people from the world. We held many spontaneous quick chats and we also endorsed one another’s social media postings. I remember when I contacted you to explain I had decided to postpone Central America to the end of my travels rather than the rainy months of September and October. You totally understood. We kept in touch whilst I continued South America.

It was a nice flight from Cartagena (Colombia) to Panama, I’d had a lot of fun in Colombia and I knew Panama would be a lot smaller in comparison.

I strongly remember watching some of the World Cup 2018 Russia matches, and how gorgeous the team from Panama were. I know that even the England squad doesn’t sharply resemble English guys, but oh boy I was hoping to have a nice time “guys-a-watching” behind my deep shaded sunglasses! I was excited to arrive Panama for sure.

We gave each other a hug at the international arrivals area and you introduced me to your friend, who was also called Jesus. This was one for the books, to have arrived into Panama and met two Jesus-es!!

I soon realised your right side eye occasionally gets “misaligned” – otherwise known as strabismus. It was sometimes not so clear if you were watching me. We talked about this, finding it amusing as deaf people across the world have experienced this phenomenon because eye contact is so important to us all.

We got into your friend, Jesus’ car (I’m laughing as I write this, its as if Lord Jesus had a car! :)) and drove on to where I’d be staying. You had already kindly arranged with your friend, David, for me to stay at his place. David was deaf, the ex-president of the deaf association in Panama and 59yrs old. He taught you when you were younger, and has known you since you were 10yr. With his hairline receding  and reaching older stage of life, David positively goes about life and has many years ahead of him.

After we settled, we immediately started to talk about plans for the 4 days I was going to be in Panama. Both David and you had kind of assumed I would be content to travel all the way to David (yes, there’s a place called ‘David’ in Western Panama!!) for eight hours on the trot, to then only stay for the night before travelling back for another eight hours. I had to make it very clear I would not be happy to. It would be a waste of valued time, such a long trip. You immediately understood and we agreed we would think of alternate plans over the course of the day. But for now, we agreed to go and see the Panama Canals and the historic town. With time being limited and me quickly realising Panama is not that small, we made a dash for it.

We got to know one another over the course of the day and I learned bits from you. I learned how the Panama Canals used to be dominated by Americans and how many Americans lived in one part of Panama. I learned about the history, how Panamanian people demanded the removal of the Americans, to own the canals fully. This led to a big vote which was won by the Panama people who wanted ownership of its canals. I also learned how the canals work! Amazing design, world class really.

As we are both gay we had several discussions about being gay in Panama. Whilst gay marriage is not legal in Panama, there are many gay people who live openly here. You told me about coming out to your family and how they found it very difficult to accept. There was a strong memory about how you were convinced to see a psychologist without your knowledge, and how they paid for a sign language interpreter too. You found this very disturbing and emotional too. It actually led you to eventually moving out of your family home and into your grandmother’s. Whilst relations have improved somewhat, you will never forget the denial and anxiety associated.

It is interesting to know how deaf people have fared in Panama. Whilst you have graduated most recently which your Grandmother holds a framed photo and certificate on her living room wall, there is no sign of a viable job yet, something I have seen time and time again across Latin America for deaf graduates.

I note how American Sign Language used to be dominant in Panama with teachings historically from people from neighbouring countries, Costa Rica and Salvador. David was involved in re-claiming Lengua de Señas Panameñas (Panamian Sign Language), much work continues.

I learn that David was made redundant recently and whilst he owns his house inherited from his parents, it is difficult to be able to afford to buy things, to meet the bills. There were no beds in his home, only mattresses on the floor. There is a desire to rent out two rooms to improve this for the time being.

Both you and David talked about global travel like it is a golden treasure. Whilst David has been to places across the Americas, you have been to Denmark for the World Federation Deaf Youth Camp, and this has always left you feeling like there is so much more in the world to see but you sadly cannot afford to do so.

Over the course of our 4-days together it is clear to me that both of you have so much to say. There is hardly a time when either of you are quiet. You both tell me about many things, and sometimes I struggle to know what to say, for example “the old hospital was there”, “the president’s friend got shot there”. It is so nice of you and David to tell me so much but there are times when I want to scream “Hashtag Information overload!” Silence can be golden!

Whilst David has known you since a young lad, he has also known you were gay early on. He has a real open mind, a lovely warmth that allows you both to enjoy many jokes that relate to sexuality. You can see it in your eyes Jesus, that you admire this older guy who has more or less given you that inner reassurance about being gay.

I like how you both use International sign with me however there are several occasions when Spanish vocabulary takes over and I simply have to tell you both when I don’t understand. We use visual cues and international examples to decipher many examples of complex information.

Is it Panama culture to arrange things at the last minute? There were many times over the 4 days when I wanted to know what was happening, where we were going, where we would be staying that was always met with a type of “We will let you know soon…” My Leo starsign character trembles at this! For example:

We were meant to stay with a friend on the first night of our road trip. We arrived into this town where we were supposed to meet this friend in a car park to then guide us to his home. On the way, he apparently texted you saying he didn’t believe we were coming and effectively we couldn’t stay at his place. There wasn’t a hint of panic in either of you. We were in a car park, it was 9pm and we didn’t have a clue where we were gonna stay! You texted a friend who ironically was just 2mins away and turned up, introduced himself and got talking with you both. It was beyond belief how he turned up so quickly, and then you all just started talking about his ex girlfriend and how astonished you were that they had split up recently. I was dead beat from all the driving I’d done all day, and you were just going on and on about the ex girlfriend. I hated to do it but I interrupted you all and asked what on earth was the plan for accommodation?! Some hesitation and acknowledgement led to us finding hotels at the last minute and eventually sharing a 4-bedroom!

Whilst David naturally plays the role of an older and wiser father to you, giving so much knowledge and advice from experience, there are times when you give David advice and knowledge, especially at the thermal spa and the roof top of Hard Rock Café! I liked this turn-taking I could see between you both and the bond you share. When we were at the beach, Santa Clara, I was sun bathing whilst you both stayed in the sea for ages, talking and talking about numerous things. When we visited the museum of ex-president Arias, Jesus, your eyes look up to David in awe, with a keenness to take in information and with enormous value too.

It was hilarious to watch you both laugh at things with sexual reference so many times. I will never forget David explaining to us both about how an ex-president of the deaf association took some Viagra and died in the middle of sexual intercourse with a lady. It was just hysterical!

It was clear that you both do not have much money to throw around. And whilst it was understandable that you needed to be careful, it was astonishing to watch David buy several lottery tickets 🙂

I was astonished as you showed me how people with the Deaf or Discapacidad card get 15% or 25% off their food bills in all restaurants – I couldn’t believe it. Greek food, coffee, ice cream, cheese-bread (Queso Chera) all were reduced without a hint of embarrassment on either you or David. A similar reduction applies for transport and medical bills.

On many occasions there was the cross made over the face, to say that life is with God and whatever he has planned will happen. You both wished me luck in my onwards travels and kissed your fingers on your lips after a cross over your face, it is sweet of you.

As the reader of this blog can probably tell, I found my time with you and David really amusing, a privilege and I really enjoyed getting to know you both. I am grateful for your time, your company and your wonderful hospitality and care. We had a wonderful few days together and it is amazing how quickly we bonded. It was an honour for me to be part of your lives no matter how short. I remain forever grateful to have met you both, Abrazo.

The Motorbike guy from Mompos (or Mompox)

 

Back in July I was in a hairdresser’s shop in San Francisco, panicking and worrying about whether to dye my hair a silver-grey colour. Ben, my dear friend, tried to reassure me. He was also dying to go to the pub. I told him to go and come back later.

Whilst waiting for the bleach to do its job on my hair, I picked and read this travel-style magazine. As I turned the pages, Mompos and the north of Colombia was a main feature that ran over about 12-pages. I loved it. The writer (I cannot remember her name) was a gifted travel writer, she wrote about how this was a town that the world had forgotten. It had a strong history with Simon Bolivar (who set much of Spanish South America free from Spanish domination), where in 1812 Bolivar  recruited all of his 400 strong-abled men from here to fight and enable glory in Caracas. She wrote beautifully about the warm weather, about a dog that swam across the river daily to get food from a farm. She wrote about the sights of nature and the food that you can find on the Arrabida (river bank street).

I admit it. I stole the magazine!

I snuck it into my bag and after my silver-grey hair turned out more purple than anything else, I walked with Ben back to our accommodation with him telling me that my hair looked good and that it will be a couple days before the silver-grey becomes noticeable. I tried to believe him(!)

The magazine stayed in my bag for the next 4 months, via Mexico, Peru, Bolivia, Argentina, Uruguay, Chile and Ecuador. I held on to the magazine article, I later tore the 12 pages out from the magazine – stupidly thinking it would give me a little more space(!) The pages started to crunch and tear, and each time I looked at it I started to think maybe I was not meant to go there. I started googling Mompos on various travel blogs etc. The enthusiasm was starting to reduce, Colombian amigos shrugged when I asked them about Mompos. I was concerned, the journey would be rather difficult according to several sources of advice on the web.

I video-called my friend Jane – well travelled – and asked her advice. Do I travel for about 7hours to Mompos or do I go to a nearby beach place instead? I asked my school-mates too. One said “Isn’t a beach just a beach? Go and see this historic place!” And Jane agreed “What’s the worse can happen? If its boring, I will read a book!”. The overall feeling was that fate was telling me to go to Mompos. Finding that magazine article especially.

And boy oh boy, I was glad I did! I got 2 different buses from the hills of Minca all the way to Mompos. It was fairly straight forward although the collectivo (shared van) was crammed all the way and it was a long and hot journey indeed. The van had to cross the Magdalena river on a small flat “ferry” that made Woolwich ferry look like nothing. I arrived Mompos around 8pm, it was so humid!  There was no sea-breeze for miles.

There were rocking chairs everywhere outside each casa, people were chilling out as the evening went on.  There were also electric fans in operation almost everywhere, hooked up by extended cables. I had some supper in the main plaza and watched people as they engaged in conversational activities, watched live-music, danced etc. Two women sat next to my table, chatting away as if everything shocking had happened to them this week. Their use of elaborate facial expressions as they chatted in rapid Spanish was amazing. I loved it!

I asked the receptionist at the hostel how I would go about going to Cartagena the next day. He effectively gave me two choices; a) door to door service at 4am from the hostel, 75,000 pesos or b) public transport service at 10pm, 80,000 pesos. I definitely did not want to leave at 4am. South America has been full of tours that begin at ridiculous times and I have avoided many of these tourist traps – especially with deaf friends around.

I asked the receptionist if there was another way, for example travelling solo. His facial expression was one of astonishment, whilst sweating badly from the humidity. It was as if tourists just cannot, especially deaf tourists like me. I persuaded him to tell me.

He explained I would have to go to a main road and wait to share a taxi with local people to Bodega and then get on a boat to Manangue, and then from there find a bus to Cartagena. This sounded straight forward to me. I checked how frequent, he said it was every 10mins all day between around 9 and 5pm. I was convinced I would be okay. This would allow me to explore Mompos in the morning and then go.

It was a wonderful morning in Mompos, I’d woken up at 6am as usual. I woke with this “readiness” and I really wanted to take in the views of Mompos and take some daylight photos of places I’d walked by last night.

I really enjoyed the sights, a football team was prepping for their game probably so early because it gets so warm later in the day. Several bikes passed me by, carrying various things. Cafés were opening up and the views into their dining rooms via gated windows were amazing. I had breakfast in one place, a coffee in another, and then another coffee in another café! It was just sheer bliss! The town was still “sleepy” by 1030am, just like the article described. No-one was in a hurry.

It was time to go, especially with a long journey ahead of me. I started to walk to the main road only to realise that it was about 2 miles away. I grabbed a “tuk-tuk” and got dropped off. Clutching my suitcase was not so easy but we made it.

(I should make it clear that for much of my travels I used a large rucksack with
wheels. However this sadly finally broke beyond repair in Pasto, and I bought a new suitcase rather than a rucksack. Just felt like the right thing to do – thanks Mum and Dad!)

On the main road I searched for a shared taxi. I couldn’t see any! Not a single taxi was in sight. I felt a bit bewildered. It was so hot, I stepped into the shade of a big tree and bought a cup of fresh lemonade from a stall. I was wondering what to do. The stall owner and her husband started to look for cars for me, but they also shrugged.

And then about six motorbikes rode up next to me. You, this broad-shouldered guy with a sense of determination, approached me. You looked paternal, a father, an Uncle. You asked me where I was going, I could sense this visually. I showed you my little paper that said “Bodega”. You nodded right away and indicated I would join you on your motorbike. I laughed out loud, told you that you were crazy (visually), my suitcase was just too big. You refused to back down. You grabbed my suitcase and lugged it on your bike. You then brought out a pair of rubber (latex?!) cables and tied up my suitcase firmly.

The others on their motorbikes nodded in agreement, telling me it would be fine. I was flabbergasted. They even demonstrated visually that I would be able to ride in comfort and that the suitcase would not fall off. You then drew out on the sandy road the figure of 20,000 pesos (approx £5).

I paused a while. “Oh sod it!” I applied some suncream and got on the bike and immediately asked one of the riders (who I suspect was your nephew or son) to take a photo. I mean, it was an adventure! I thought to myself, I’m so gonna have yet another story to share! And what with it being a motorbike and my experiences to date (Bolivia: world’s most dangerous road bike ride and my accident, Cafayete: long exasperated ride but it was because the security chain was tied around the seat and jammed the wheel from moving, and Medellin: falling off Carlos’ motorbike!).

The sun shone strongly in our faces, the colourful views during this 44km journey were beautiful. Birds flew, marshes were plentiful and many animals were in sight. You rode the bike with a steady speed. You were wearing this kind of long sleeved pink top whilst I was wearing a vest! You were confident as we meandered the roads.  We went over many speed bumps along the way and we also avoided some bumps by going off-road where it was smooth enough to do so.

The music from Grease 2, “Cool Rider” kept playing in my head. Michelle Pfeiffer could eat her heart out. I just felt so good!! (I didn’t fancy my rider at all mind you!!)

And then I suddenly realised I had no helmet. I had no idea who you were. And you had no mirrors on your bike!!! I had taken a big risk without having thought about it. Think about Uber and the level of scrutiny applied with vetting and risk assessments.  Think about the numerous risk assessments I had to do in my old job! And compare that to what I was doing on your bike!

Yes, it was an adventure but what a silly risk to have taken. I started worrying and regretting.  The suitcase was starting to tilt badly behind me, I was worried it would fly off. I tapped you to slow down and stop. You eventually did, yet you didn’t look worried at all. You attempted to tighten up the cables but one of them snapped, like an elastic band that splits into two. Did you have a spare cable? Nope! What you did astonished me, you just tied up both split cables together.

You had this aura of confidence, you really made me reassured. I explained to you how worried I was about not having a helmet, you kind of understood but equally you were not worried.  We continued the journey. We passed many people who live in the rural countryside, many of them selling fruit or doing farm related work. One of them was watering down the heated road surface and hoping to get tips for doing this.

The suitcase kept tilting further and for the last 4km I just felt I had to hold on to the suitcase behind me rather than holding on to you. It must have been a sight, the pair of us on your bike and my hands behind me holding on to this massive suitcase!

As we arrive in Bodega I realised I felt rather disappointed, I wanted this journey to continue for at least another hour. I just loved it, the roaring sounds and vibration, the sights and the glorious sunshine on us.

You helped me off the bike and took down the suitcase. You also helped me get the right boat ticket to Manangue. I was just so glad you are trustworthy. I paid you the fee and gave you a little tip.

I asked you to write your name down as I just know I am going to write this blog. You wrote it out with pretty bad handwriting, but I smiled as I deciphered it – Wilman. What a perfect name for someone who had so much will and determination!

I watched you as you immediately chatted with other motorbike riders at the boat port, all of you a-waiting to give someone a ride somewhere.

I will never forget this journey. I waved to you goodbye as I crawled into the narrow small boat toward Manangue (picture below).

2019 is almost here – my own reflections about poverty

As we all settle into the new year and some of us share our reflections, here’s mine. I have worked on this blog post for quite a while, dithering whether its okay and made sure this blog post remains that of my own thoughts. I don’t expect you to agree with everything I write, I also don’t expect this blog post to change things.

As I type, I have been travelling Latin America for almost 6months. I am typing on a portable keyboard with my iPad that I purchased in Mexico after my old one broke. I was rather torn in deciding what to do when my old mini iPad just would not charge, and after some hesitation I headed to the Mac store in Puerto Vallarta and looked at a range of models before deciding to buy a new one. It was about £375 in total plus the new blue plastic cover too. I bought the portable keyboard earlier on in Los Angeles.

To be able to purchase these, I am a lucky guy. I was able to use my savings from selling my car and my Apple Mac, also from a long time saving up too. I don’t believe I realised just how lucky I was until later in my travels.

Poverty frightens and saddens me. Of course, I have come across poverty before especially when working in charities and communities. There are many definitions of poverty that will lead to how a country, a government or a person judges the extent of being poor. But poverty in countries where there is little or no welfare benefits sickens me. It leaves such a mess, it leads people into desperation, crime, poor self esteem and devastation. Prostitution too. It also leads people who are not in poverty into “privileged/power positions” e.g. acts of grooming, bribery, paying people to do things that they don’t really want to do.

On my journey I have seen/experienced the following:

– A young lady in Armenia with torn clothes, little or no teeth, no footwear, running after me as I was waiting for a taxi to take me to the bus terminal. She was spouting something in Spanish, looking at me angrily, wanting money badly and almost about to tug my manual rucksack.

– About 20 tents on a disused part of a highway, filled with Venezuelans who had run away from persecution into Pasto. With no benefits, no support they have just had to live this way and try their best to get minimal income from selling trivial things. The “campsite” lacks hygiene, there is nowhere safe. Kids are running around and the adults look extremely tired and frustrated at their misfortune. What did they ever do to deserve this?

– Incredibly tired looking people walking around in Medellin with huge bags collecting whatever waste they can find. There is a financial incentive depending on how much plastic etc has been collected, but it is so minimal.

– In every country I have been in, I have seen a number of people sleeping on the streets, looking so worn out and in bad health. I have seen people with huge open scabs on their bodies, pouring water on their wounds. It is beyond belief.

– Christmas Day in Medellin, walking on the street towards a restaurant, I saw several families just lying on the streets, so tired and evidently hungry. They looked disillusioned, they cannot understand the injustice in this world.

– In Arequipa, Peru – a boy of about 5-7yr old, looking so depleted and not at all enlightened when I gave him my left over food in a box from a Mexican restaurant – they had given me too much. It is too easy to assume they want food, or to think its better to give food, when it can be much more that they want; a home, a bath, a family, an education.

– Eating lunch in a park in Quito, a nice guy sat on my table and flirted with me. He turned out to be living on the street and wanted me to pay him to have some fun. He didn’t even look scared, it was a job to him. Of course I said no. This was not an isolated example, it has happened so many times, in bars, in bus stations etc.

– I was asked in a large hyper-supermarket with Mexican friends, to contribute a large amount of money towards a new tumble drier to help them. I had to decline after having already been very generous with food and drinks.

– Stayed in family homes where showers simply do not work; low electricity means
low lightning, no hot water. No toilet seats. No bathroom door, just a pinned shower curtain. No washing machine, everything hand-washed. No wifi or very slow speed.

– Saw a child sunbathing with his family, making a sandcastle and drinking a can of coke, totally ignoring a similar aged child next to him, begging for money and looking worse for wear.

– Met women and men approximately aged 16-30yr who have a “rich uncle” in the Western world, paying for their needs in return for sexual demands. Prostitution is disguised here both for the predator and prey.

– Saw so many people attempting to sell minor items e.g. pens, rulers, plastic toys, mints on the bus and train. They stand up for about 5mins talking loudly about their item and then they pass one to each person, walking to the end of the bus/carriage and then return to either pick them up or receive money. This is obviously all in Spanish but the passion and energy in them to try and sell is strong.

– I was asked for £20 by a friend just to help him get by.

I have found myself in the following situations/dilemmas:

– Having to restrain myself after one friend assumed I was happy to pay the bill for the group we were eating with.

– Being so unsure about buying my host family a slap up meal when they probably needed the money rather.

– Spending £100 for 5 nights in Medellin thinking it was a good deal and then seeing my friends’ faces in alarm as if I’d spent a fortune.

– Wanting to get away from my deaf hosts to be able to go shopping without feeling guilty in front of them. To buy a branded ice cream, a top-notch meal rather than the cheaper version.

– Insisting on paying the food/drink bill when my host or friends want to pay – I just know they cannot afford it.

– Agreeing with my Ecuadorian friends after I paid for dinner, that they could buy coffee afterwards in return. But then to realise they only bought me a coffee, saying they were too full up. I sensed they wanted to spend as minimal as possible.

– Collecting some of my worn out or no longer needed clothes together and giving it to poor people on the streets, yet knowing they would much rather money.

– Buying street food from poor people and realising I only had large notes, and them trying their best to find change. It was so embarrassing.

– Really wanting to go to a bar for drinks and then realising my friends just can’t afford it hence buying from supermarket and drinking in the streets.

– Looking for a café that sells proper coffee whilst passing poor people for whom the price for proper or even normal coffee could do so much for them

– Wanting to scream at a “Westerner”for trying to haggle a price far too low

– Seeing large numbers of local “comfortable” families having meals outside restaurants whilst poor people are around staring hungrily.

– Saying no to buying another bottle of rum in Bolivia, when I had bought the first one for a birthday party, and then they all collected money themselves to buy the second one. I was very tired but with reflection it was not expensive and I could have saved them money.

– Always trying to not spend more than £5 on dinner as it just feels so wrong to spend more relatively.

– Spending £3 on 2 laundry loads by hotel reception and knowing my local friend thinks its way too expensive.

– Spending £90 to do the world’s most dangerous road bicycle ride in Bolivia – such a brilliant experience but the money could have done so much for my Bolivian host family.

Each day of my travels I have battled with my frustrations. I have tried to raise £1200 for Starly to reunite with his parents but only managed £470. I am truly grateful to all who donated though and totally understand not everyone can donate every time someone raises money.

I think by the time I go home in March I will have spent approx £14k in 7-months (flights included). I could have ended my travels much earlier and given the rest to the poor. Sadly in Latin America and other parts of the world there is too much corruption to know what best to do to support poverty issues. Of course there’s Fairtrade and Oxfam etc, but these have been around for years. We need more solutions but the issues seem prevalent.

For deaf people in poverty, I do not know how sign language recognition has supported them, if any. In Colombia, sign language was recognised in 1996 and yet so many are unemployed and struggling. The same goes for Chile and Argentina. In the UK, British Sign Language is still not legally protected and recognised yet we have so much access etc (see my previous blog re employment in Chile for deaf people). I think poverty overrides the positive benefits from sign language recognition, its just too powerful and dominant a barrier itself.

But what are we meant to do? Do we walk past, ignore, say sorry? Do we stop buying privileged things such as iPads and portable keyboards? I could avoid paying for taxis, avoid buying coffee in nice cafes, and give the money to local poor people. But then what about supporting local employment? People are trying to make a living to get out of poverty.

Is the thought “Why can’t this government help them? “ a convenient excuse not to give?

But then giving money would encourage greater begging?

Each time I explain to new deaf friends in Latin America that my travels are within a limited budget and that I have saved hard etc, I wonder what they really think. Do they, as they say, admire me for working so hard and saving money and taking this plunge? Do they think its so unfair? Some of them have told me in reflective discussions that by travelling I am spreading the word, making their challenges and unfairness known to my friends and family.

It was UN Human Rights day on December 10th – I don’t know if I am alone in my thinking, but I have no idea what it means? Its just not working? There is so much poverty and war related poverty. How can we say “Happy UN Human Rights day” when we know of these terrible things?

As we head into 2019 with our own individual thoughts and reflections about what we have done in 2018, and what we want to experience in the new year, I am sure that many of us have our own conscience-related questions that will remain unanswered.

Travelling insofar has been a wonderful privilege and I am grateful for all the support I have received from family, friends in the UK and also friends across Latin America.

Happy New Year to you all.

The deaf owners of “Monkey” in Dosquebradas (near Pereira)

It was a lovely long morning in Pereira, I enjoyed visiting the Termales spa far high up in the mountains via Santa Rosa. The scenery of jungle forests makes you feel special as you chill out in the thermal pools. I order a coffee, I look at the view again and again. Just amazing really.

The afternoon was spent with a charity that focuses on supporting poor and disadvantaged deaf families. This charity seems to be totally led by hearing people, and its leaders seem to have a strong affinity for signed singing and effectively telling people that it’s “integration” at its best.

I was slightly alarmed at the constant “copy me” requests by the hearing leaders, who I saw telling deaf people in the audience to stop talking and “copy me”!! It was pretty worrying at times, the level of disempowerment and yet later on I could also appreciate the strong passion of the hearing leader (who is also an interpreter) ; he is constantly asked by financially poor deaf people for help.

After the Xmas carols, I watched as the whole group of deaf parents and numerous hearing children poured and crowded themselves into a local bus to a nearby community centre. There, everyone sat in a large circle and watched eagerly as their hearing children took in turns to (orally) sing songs into the DJ system, encouraged and led by hearing leaders. I did not see once, the involvement of deaf people in the leadership of this whole event – it really did strike to me as unfortunate and disempowering.

After returning to my kind host’s home for a nap, Jhonal and I later woke up and got ready to head on to a house party. But I was very peckish and asked if we could grab some quick food en route. Jhonal thought for a while on options – pizza, empanadas, burgers, sushi, etc. There are just numerous options for food in every place/street in Colombia! Jhonal’s face then suddenly broke into a huge smile as he remembered a new nice place, owned by a deaf couple. I agreed eagerly, it would be lovely to see this place as I have seen other places in Quito (Inclusiva) and San Francisco (Mozzeria).

We walked down the colourful streets of Dosquebradas, which used to be part of Pereira until its economy improved enough to be independent. I really like Dosquebradas, the streets are clean and many pavements are smooth without bumps! (see previous blog posts for moans about South American pavements being so uneven with tree roots everywhere!). Xmas lights are everywhere, just as in all of Colombia. Really big illuminations and so much flashing lights enough to produce epileptic fits everywhere. We grab a taxi.

The taxi drops us off at this side street, there are people hanging around, drinking away in Xmas spirits. Jhonal points to the “café” and I immediately realise it’s a kind of take-away shop, with a huge counter at the front and big illuminous coloured posters that tell you what’s on offer and what price (e.g. hamburguesas and arepa) . I walk in with Jhonal and there you are, the owners of this small business that has only been opened for 9months.

Monis and Darwin, such a sweet couple and so eager to grow the business but with a slow and stable pace (Theresa May’s totally different!).

At first Monis, you greet Jhonal warmly but totally orally – you speak away knowing that Jhonal is hearing but forgetting that he is a sign language interpreter, totally fluent in sign language and that I am here! I can’t understand a word you are saying! It’s bad enough that you’re speaking in Spanish, but I want to be included. You continue talking with Jhonal and he replies in sign language. After a few minutes I give up and ask you quite firmly to please sign. You are rather astonished, you thought I was also an interpreter 🙂 We laugh in embarrassment and get friendly.

Darwin, you always wear this mask out of hygiene needs whilst cooking. You have worn it so long that even when you are not cooking you are still wearing it, you even sign to us whilst still wearing it! It is quite alarming to realise you spend every working day doing two jobs; you go to a sewing factory each morning and mainly focus on manufacturing jeans, and then you get back home around 530pm, and have a nap for an hour before setting up to be a chef all night. You don’t even seem fed up!

I later learn that for both of you this is your second relationship. Monis, you have 2 boys but your previous (hearing) husband has full custody. The arrangements only allow you to see your boys one Saturday a month and only for a few hours. It is sad and yet you have become stoic, very tired of the emotional rollercoaster you have been on. The boys are easily manipulated by the paternal side of the family which has given you more than enough heartache over the last few years.

As Jhonal and I settle and wait for our order, a stream of deaf customers drop by and greet us all but also order foods too. They seem to come, order and then go and return later for their foods. I later realise they are having a drink on the street nearby, but also that a few of them live so close by that they go home. Allow me to describe a few of them here:

A tall deaf guy comes in, he is so friendly, talks to me about life in Pereira but also about deaf people’s lives too.

A young deaf lad probably 18/19yr pops in, Jhonal used to interpret for him at college for a while. He tells me he didn’t know sign language until a couple years ago, and you can see his indignation, his disappointment that he never had language till so late.  He is so keen to have friendships with everyone here.

A deaf guy is holding a motorbike helmet, and whilst he greets me its somewhat “delayed”, I don’t understand his delay for a bit and then suddenly realise he has Usher’s Syndrome. Immediately I ask about how he rides a motorbike. His friends tell me that he is a good rider but is definitely taking a risk. In Colombia you can pay for a doctor to amend your medical records and hence allow you to continue to ride your bike especially to get to work. He tells me he just cannot afford to not work. There is no good benefits system to support him otherwise. I am still gawping – how can you ride a motorbike in this busy city with Usher’s Syndrome?!!

A young lady greets me, chats about her friend in Europe and asks me if I know her. Sometimes I think Colombian people think Europe is the size of Colombia! I tell her I don’t, we get talking about other things. She tells me she’s from Cali, another city and how much she loves living in Pereira. Her boyfriend brought her here after some romance. Later her boyfriend arrives exactly at the same time as her kebab and chips is served, I am rather impressed at the coincidence, only to realise he was drinking up the road and she had waved to him when Darwin was serving!

A deaf young man with very rough skinned hands arrives, he had bumped into me earlier today at the Xmas event. He is pleased to see us again and we talk a bit. He tells me he is working for at least two months on sorting out books from the Government for poor families, putting them into bags and delivering them to families. He has no idea what work is in store for him when this work finishes. Its typical Colombian employment for deaf people with little education; they get a bit of work here and there, nothing permanent.

I thoroughly enjoyed my Arepa dish – arepa is a kind of bread base made from Maize flour – gorgeous and more healthy than normal bread I think/hope! I loved how quail eggs were added to my burger, and also I notice how they are added to virtually every dish you (Darwin) create tonight, with a cocktail stick added to keep the egg in place. I realise later from you that quail eggs are cheaper than chicken eggs in Colombia.

There are a range of sauces on offer, but my favourite one is the ketchup and mayonnaise mixed. Its pink – kids and people do it all the time in the UK, they physically mix both together on the plate, whereas in Colombia it’s a proper sauce!

Monis, you give me the bill and I give you a generous tip, I just want Monkey to thrive and grow. You are rather startled but pleased evidently. You then return from the kitchen with a huge glass of sweet wine. Its lovely to have and I wanted to keep the glass – such a huge one!

I’m rather excited about plans ahead for Monkey, you both tell me the challenges you have had to date and the growth in just 9 months. I liken this growth to a baby – from foetus to baby! Monis, you agree that a logo and sign is needed but it costs money. You show me on your phone a draft image created by your cousin, I like it! I don’t totally agree with there being nothing about deaf or inclusion in the proposed signage but its your dream! You explain its called Monkey because you think Darwin looks like a monkey! Darwin willingly agrees and puts his face next to the logo to show how much of a monkey he looks like!!! ( searched for emoticon monkey unsuccessfully sorry)

It’s a brilliant evening for me at Monkey, a privilege.  Its also fabulous to see how everything is done behind the counter because that’s where the dinner table is perched. I like seeing how precise you are Monis, writing every single order and using a huge calculator for the sums.

I realise there are no healthy food options on offer, but it’s the same almost everywhere in Colombia in my view!

The young lady’s boyfriend returns with Jhonal after disappearing a while, he is holding a Colombian cigar and offers me a puff. I politely decline, they laugh at my “English-ness”!!

Jhonal and I then finally head off with lots of affectionate “cuidate” (take care) hugs with everyone.  What was planned to be a quick half hour eat turned into 3 hours!

We grab a taxi nearby and arrive at this amazing villa owned by a DJ. There are music instruments all over and the DJ is playing some really intriguing music. We stay till 4am.

I absolutely love how travels can be so spontaneous and how I meet people like you Monis and Darwin. I wake up the next morning, we are Facebook friends since last night, and you have already liked 1000 photos :):)

Johanna, a deaf lady in Pasto

 
(Johanna has read and approved of this blog)

I had wasted a couple hours this morning going with my Colombian host father into town to see if they could repair my blasted travel luggage. The traffic had been unbelievable, and when you have a bit of a bad back, the multiple stops and halts on the brakes really frustrates you. The handle was doing my head in (see previous blogs) and the bottom part was starting to really badly erode away, worrying me about what happens when it finally splits. We went to this downtown market to a market stall where they seemed to excel in repairing luggage. They examined my luggage, giving sighs of despair and were reluctant to say how much it would cost to repair. The overall message I sensed was to let it go and get a new one. My parents had kindly offered to buy this for Xmas. I gave up and agreed I would look for a new one tomorrow. We hurried back home in order to meet you, Johanna.

You were introduced to me by a mutual friend, and you kindly offered to meet and take me to the wonderful Laguna de la Cocha, about half an hour’s journey away but only if you know where to get these lovely collectivos where people effectively share cabs at the last minute, no pre-bookings necessary.

As I greet you in the lobby of my host family’s casa, it is quite clear to me you are a little nervous. I try and reassure you, coming across as positive and kind as I usually do. I can see how unsure you are about how I will greet you, I kiss you on both cheeks and smile. I then excuse myself to get my bag ready for our trip.
Being a transexual in transition is not easy. I can only imagine it to some extent, but I would not want you or anyone going through the process to be nervous about meeting me. As a gay deaf man I can only try to understand how one has fear, how one is going through such a journey for acceptance but then there is all of the medical side of the transition. I just want you to feel safe and content with my company and hope that I give this to you by being my normal friendly and caring self.

We set off and talk about common things, about Pasto and how religious a town it is. We also talk about my love of coffee and how I really needed a coffee – its Colombia for heaven’s sake. We walk quite a fair bit to arrive this not-so-bad-a-café and have a quick coffee each. We then dash off to a collectivo stand and we are told to wait 5minutes for the next car ride to La Cocha.

We talk and learn more about each other. I tell you about my travels insofar and also what is ahead of me over the next few months before I go home. I am impressed with your international sign fluency and I tell you that you should consider training up to the level of an international sign interpreter. You share with me that the University in Pasto is on strike (again) and that many young people in Pasto are disillusioned with the escalating costs of education and the chaos it means for completing your degree. You are doing some small paid work as an observer of newly trained sign language interpreters, giving feedback for their professional development.

The car speeds ahead all the way to La Cocha, riding pretty quickly across the huge bends from one side of the mountain/volcano to the other. We try to remain seated upright with some difficulty! We talk to each other the whole journey. It is nice to know you more and about Pasto, the first city of Colombia for me to visit.

I am conscious to allow you to raise the subject of being transsexual, rather than me. It is never certain what’s the right thing to do; to raise it or not, but my maturity tells me to let you raise it. And you do. I had pointed to a picture of some elaborate nails painted, you seemed to like this subject and we laugh about different nail styles. You tell me how hard it is for you and how things used to be. I admire your honesty and openness but also how brave you are being.

I learn that you used to identify as a gay young man, and how you fell in love with men only to be rejected again and again with the same reasons; you were too feminine for their liking and that they wanted a masculine guy. You went through a lot, and from lots of consideration you recognised that you were a transexual and decided to come out at 22yr, seeking support from the Health profession as well as the Deaf community and your family. Your parents did struggle initially but quickly turned to support you after your siblings strongly stood up for you. The Deaf community was a different thing, with many unsure how to support you and a mix of reactions across individuals. Those you had grown up with were divided between positive and hostility. There are men who grew up with you who still shake your hand and refuse to kiss you as an identified lady. There are others who have been more positive.

You tell me how you really want to work with deaf children in education but transexuals are banned from doing so in Colombia. I share with you my huge annoyance with this and how things are far more open in the UK, I know of at least 2 deaf transexuals who are working in deaf education and pretty open about it too. You appear amazed to learn about this, positively envious to some extent.
I learn that you are in touch with a few deaf transexuals across South America, but in Colombia you feel you are the only one that is open about it.

You share with me that your Mother and you both pay for your hormone replacement therapy medication, she paying a large part of it. You are still thinking about removal of your penis, it is very difficult a decision and you have two years to think about it.

I positively ask you a few questions out of curiosity. You confirm you always use the female toilets. You also confirm you want to be referred to as she, her.

In our wider conversations about love and men, you repetitively share your deep desire to fall in love and have a boyfriend. It is very difficult you acknowledge, for men to treat you just like a woman, especially whilst transitioning. I also say its difficult, men are rats sometimes 🙂

There is a slight confusion when we are riding in the taxi back. Wearing shorts, you can see some of my hair on my legs are blonde. You say you really wish you had this, which confused me as I thought you were going to no longer have hair on your arms. You explain to me that you mean blonde as my sun-tanned hair had turned much of my leg hair blonde. It makes sense, as it can make hair less obvious on your body.

We later meet a group of deaf friends for coffee in a shopping mall, it is clear to me how this group totally accepts you and treats you like a lady. There are times when you come across as unsure of yourself, times when you give the impression that you want to be ultra feminine but not yet.

You ask me to show you photos of the deaf transexuals I know in the UK and I gladly show those I have from social media. It is really clear to me how important it is for you to meet, know and identify with other deaf transexuals or people going though the experience.

It’s the identity, the shared experience and the numerous questions each person has. It is the same for the rest of the lgbtiqa plus community, although finding each other I would say is much harder for transexuals who are deaf.

(Just in case its helpful for UK readers, have a look at this website for some support http://www.deaflgbtiqa.org.uk)