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Sunday, November 27, 2011

December 9: A heart-to-heart with Mama Isa

December 9, 2009

Location: Cuenca

Weather: Nice


It took me over a month to figure out where my host dad has been. One day, the day after Trevor and my 9 month anniversary, I came home from a telephone cabina sobbing my eyes out on Antonia's shoulder, who had the job of explaining to my mother why I was at my wit's end and unable to keep it together.

“Don't cry,” my mom told me. “Men aren't worth it. Don't cry.”

The next day, she asked me if I was better and pulled out a pile of photo albums to show me her past. She showed me her husband who has been gone for six months and who won't return her phone calls or talk to her in over two months. They were only married for six years and had several unsuccessful pregnancies. No wonder she seems like she's dying to become a mother. Her husband is off cavorting around the Oriente while she is stuck at home paying bills and worrying about making ends meet in their enormous house.

It's unfair to my mother to be stuck in the position of having to stay faithful and keep the house running simply because she has a womb. She told me that her husband is stupid and they can't get a divorce (thank you, Catholicism), but she can't do what she wants, either. Gender injustice strikes hardest in marriages, I think. It isn't the catcalls on the streets or the expectation that women are the ones who must cook, clean, and take care of everyone. It's in the marriages held together only by a piece of paper and the disapproving eye of the church.

My mom has to work, take care of her mother, watch her nephew every day, and be a proper woman. She has none of the freedom of a married woman but all of the responsibilities, despite Vincente's absence.

“What do I do with all of his clothes?” She asked, showing me the closets full of suits and shoes and hats.

“Burn it,” I told her.

She laughed and agreed that it was a brilliant idea. “Men are stupid. With the exceptions of Manuel.”

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