Birthday parties in Santiago generally consist of family and friends sitting down together at their home. They listen to music, sit together, eat cake, and drink. Seriously. They don't really stand up and mingle or mix. They literally sit in one place for hours at a time, talking to whoever is sitting next to them, and partaking of whatever refreshment the host serves.
In my mind's eye, I can envision these natives doing much the same thing for generations -- sitting together in a circle, not having any reason to stand up and move around. Just sitting and being content to listen to each other and just be together.
So yesterday, as I was walking down the street, I saw my neighbors outside having a birthday party. Martha and Reynaldo were visiting his sister in her home. I've visited all of them often, since his sister is frequently at Reynaldo's house and I often stop in to say hello there.
I really should know this lady's name but it's 2 a.m. as I type this (fell asleep, woke up at 1:30, decided to write). Anyway, her son, Fernando, was having a birthday party. I was somewhat hesitant to join them this time, because of an experience I had a few weeks ago.
I went by somewhat later in the evening because I had an urgent concern I wanted to discuss with Martha. The family was outside in the years, socializing and drinking. I didn't fully appreciate how drunk Martha was until I had already committed to stopping to talk, which meant I'd have to stay at least a half an hour.
Every time I visit, if they are drinking, they always offer me some and I always refuse. But on that occasion, they wouldn't take no for an answer. Martha was literally trying to pour beer into my mouth!
So this time when they offered me beer, I used my strong "no." I changed the subject and talked about how important her friendship was to me, and how I get drunk on the joys of life and friendship. She just was not letting go of the need for me to drink with her. But thankfully, I got the idea to turn to her son, who was next to me, to start a conversation. And Martha allowed herself to be distracted.
Dito (Reynaldito, a.k.a., Reynaldo Junior) is 18 years old. He graduated from high school last December, and pretty much on graduation night began his journey into true adulthood by getting his girlfriend, Flavia, pregnant. They're married now and living in his parents' home. His dad is away during the week because he has to work pretty far from Santiago and can't travel back and forth daily. So Dito and his young wife and baby live in the home. His mother is often there with them, taking care of the baby so that Flavia can finish her senior year of high school.
Lately, Dito has initiated conversations with me. When I'm out of town, they notice, because our chicken coop is right behind their back yard. So he started messaging me when he could see the chickens were being neglected. I've asked him for help on several occasions. His mom, of course, is generally in charge of the whole affair. But I communicate through social media with Dito.
I don't know why he started messaging me for no apparent reason a month or two ago. Maybe he feels sympathy for me being in a difficult situation with my marriage. I think he can sympathize being in a marriage where one or both of the partners aren't in love with each other. But when he messages me, he doesn't have anything to say. We don't exactly have a lot in common!
So when he texts, I just talk about what I always talk about when I visit my neighbors. I talk about my life, which lately has had a lot to do with finding God in the everyday routine and challenges that I face. I suspect that has struck a chord with Dito, seeing how I've weathered the difficulty that I'm going through in my marriage.
I'm guessing that Dito feels something when I talk about God, and he probably doesn't understand very much of what I say, and can't really fathom why I do what I do. It really seems to be beyond his comprehension - and not just his. I've tried having these types of conversations with others. I guess I have to learn a different way of communicating. Maybe just my refusing to drink beer, and always talking about God is what they need to help them understand.
So trying to evade Martha, I felt confident in turning to Dito for a conversation. I asked him why he wasn't drunk like everybody else. His reply was surprising - if Mary Lynn isn't drinking, neither am I. Or something to that effect. I really can't understand everything people say.
His meaning was evident, though, since, as we talked, I could see that he had punctured the bottom of the can that he was holding and allowing the beer to spill out onto the ground. I'll have to remember that tactic. I'm not sure I can always avoid going to the parties. And once I'm there, they'll expect me to drink with them.
I learned today that as long as I am holding something in my hand, they sort of leave me alone. Sort of. I had a glass of water in the beginning, and I think they were kind of okay with that. But, silly me, I drank it all. And when my glass was empty, they had to fill it up again! With beer!! That's the point I was using all my powers of diversion and evasion to avoid drinking it. But for the rest of my stay there, I held a cup of beer in my hand.
I thought how opposite that situation was from what I've been taught -- avoid the very appearance of evil. Holding a cup of beer in my hand would certainly seem to fall into "the appearance of evil" as I was taught. But here in Santiago, with my neighbors, refusing to drink with your friends is the greater evil. So, in order to avoid the appearance of evil here, I had to hold a cup of beer in my hand.
