Twenty cents. The monetary value it's not that much (Well, to some in this world). But, today, it was much more. Last night after getting home from a stroll around the 'hood with my favorite gringa, I began to feel it. You know IT---that slight feeling of "I'm probably going to be sick tomorrow" with the "Oh, yes, it was probably the combination of rotten milk, rotten juice, and rotten chicken stock all of which I gulped and then wretched into the sink within two days." (When will I learn---smell before you sip!) I woke up this morning, and my stomach an the feeling of the gurgle lingers. Oh joy. So, knowing that I'm going to be down this afternoon until possibly tomorrow night (Gee...glad I procrastinated doing Monday lesson planning and work for Sunday! GRRR.), I headed for the market so to make sure that at least my cabinet was stocked for the next week.
I arrived at the market which is a twenty minute walk from the university, had finished making my rounds to get everything I needed, and was lugging my usual load--a full backpack with at least two heavy bags on each arm---and I made one final stop to a woman with grabanzo beans to pick up another pound. (This is the first time I've seen garbanzos at the market...so I decided I had better stock up). She measured out a pound, and I handed her a five dollar bill. "Aye, pero no hay sueldo." ("Oh, but I don't have change.) Let me take this moment to point out that change on this island is only guaranteed at the two big grocery stores and the bank, and even there you still might walk out with seven dollars in quarters.
I rummaged through my wallet and had a combined $1.30; the garbanzos were $1.50. She looked at me. I looked at her. I told her that was all I had. She clearly wanted the sale, so told her I would to give her the twenty cents eventually..."Estoy aqui cada Sabado! Yo regresere por pagarse." ("I'm here every Saturday. I will return to pay you.) She was hesitant for a moment, but then agreed although a little suspicious. (I mean, clearly she wanted to make the sale but clearly she didn't want to be taken for granted, ESPECIALLY not by a gringa.)
I walked back to the school with my produce, unloaded, and then proceeded to grab a book, because I had to visit the photocopier yet again (four visits, an attached note and verbal clarification/confirmation with two people is clearly NOT enough to get what you need on this island). I trudged to the island "Kinkos," and reexplained yet again what I wanted. I stood there, annoyed at the woman who stopped listening because she thought I wasn't understanding her Spanish until I explained THREE times that I understood her and that my way of doing it would make HER job easier---the light bulb eventually finally clicked on. This isn't the first time logic and efficiency has been mistaken as a communication barrier, me being at fault, of course.
Despite feeling the gurgle of my stomach and wanting to go home, my conscience got the best of me. I trundled up the hill and stopped at little tienda across the street from the market to by a bar of soap. It was seventy cents. I had a ten dollar bill; he had no change. The sale was moot. I then had to walk three blocks downhill to another store which usually has no problem giving me change. I picked up the same bar of soap. It was seventy-five cents at this store. I set down my ten and the woman asked me, "Pero usted no tiene sueldo...un dolar?" ("But, don't you have change...a dollar?") I laughed an exasperated chuckle and literally flipped my wallet over and shook it upside down as I told her no. She smiled, seeing my obvious insanity, and told me it was no problem.
I picked up my bar of soap, walked back up hill, and entered the market. I went to the stand of the woman who I was indebted twenty cents to. I look at her with a "See, here it is" smile, handing her the quarter eager to get home. She smiled at me and as I turned to walk away, she said, "Espera!" ("Wait!") and beckoned me back as she rummaged for change. I told her that it was no problem, it was interest. But, she wouldn't have it. She rummaged for a few seconds, found five cents, and handed it back to me with a smile. I smiled back and left the market.
Yes, it was only twenty cents, but in a place where stereotypes about gringos run rampant, communication is muddled, and trust is hard to come by---despite wanting to nothing more than to go to my bed---I spent twenty minutes on the hunt for change while feeling like death so I could show this woman that I wasn't some dishonest gringa taking advantage of her. And, though she really didn't need the twenty cents either and probably would have liked the extra five, she was going to be damned if that honest gringa was going to let her be anything less than an honest business woman as well.
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