Birthday girl

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When you try to picture a birthday party for a twelve year old in a rural Nicaraguan village you might visualise some silly games and lots of excited chatter. Well this was what we had in mind when Yelba (the mum of our host family) told us she had a surprise party planned for Skarleth (the daughter of our host family). What unfolded on the evening of November 12th was unforeseen.

Yelba had invited all the family around (about twenty five people). In such a small community every week seems to reveal a new unexpected family connection so it was good to have everybody in the same room so we could finally get the complete picture. When we got home at the end of the day party preparations were in full swing Skarleth had donned a pretty frock and Yelba had spent the afternoon preparing forty tocas (a rather delicious Nicaraguan adaptation of the Mexican dish). The guests began to assemble from 6:30pm and when we emerged from our quarters to join the festivities silent attention was focused on a box in the corner of the room. The box did not unfortunately signal the start of pass-the-parcel. It was the TV delivering one of the locals favourite nightly novellas (soaps). Bowls of tacos were passed through and beer and soft drinks poured. We dared to attempt to spark conversation with the birthday girl but only met muted responses as the novella sucked all attention. Tacos were followed by some of the iconic local Eskimo ice cream.

We waited patiently for the present giving moment or the singing of Feliz Cumpleanos but neither arrived. We discreetly asked Yelba if now was the right time to give Skarleth the school bag we had brought for her, as we were rather nonplussed, and it apparently was. We gave it to Skarleth and she briefly thanked and then disappeared with the present unopened. It was possibly the most unsatisfying gift giving we had experienced. No feedback, no reaction, nada it felt odd. The TV continued along with the lack of any conversation. Guests started peeling away leaving the assembled blokes with a bottle of rum and the remaining beer. Skarleth was now nowhere to be seen we only could assume she was in bed. It was a peculiar spectacle for a community we expected could put together quite a party. We had to assume it was a good event as nobody said otherwise. Sadly it did look like a rather unfortunate foreign import.

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