Calama, Chile: The misogyny headquarters where woman lose every time

I’m far from the most patriotic person I know, but I’m starting to think wistfully of my own country its complete and total lack of misogyny, compared to Chile. There are huge problems in America when it comes to woman’s rights. The huge problems, don’t come close to how it is in this disgusting male- infested city. The English Opens Doors Program should never have sent women to this city. I’m bitterly thinking of sending them an email telling them this. 

Nothing truly “bad” has happened to me. It’s not that I don’t feel somewhat safe here–I’m not going to say I feel totally safe, but I’m also not in fear. What I am is pissed off and annoyed. I’m so sick of being cat called. EVERYWHERE. Everywhere I go. I walk 5 blocks to school in the morning and get a ride home at night (because it’s not safe for women to walk alone after dark). In that time I get honked at, hollered at, kissed at, whistled at, and harassed by pretty much every man I come across either walking, driving a car, or driving a bus. Even the buses honk at me. I am not getting any exercise. The people here treat the outside world like a dangerous place that no one should ever go. So at least I thought I could feel safe in my home and school……

Then my family went on vacation, and the older sister decided to share my phone number with their cousin. This guy is about 30, works in the mine, single, and spends his time “carreteando” AKA partying. Partying in this city for males consists of mostly prostitutes, strip clubs, and harassing women in the streets. So, I have no reason to trust this guy. Needless to say, I have been getting (what I would call) harassed by him ALL week. Incessant text messages that I had to start ignoring. INCESSANT. He kept telling me we’re going to have lunch, we’re going to go out, we’re going to have dinner together…might I say that he was telling, not asking. This somehow feels typical from the people here. Needless to say, I was not letting this man into my home where I was alone. I don’t care if he’s the cousin or not, I was not doing it.

So, the next day a professor from the school dropped me off around 7:30. It was already dark. I got out of the car, walked into the house, double locked the door, and then heard knocking, Looked out the peephole and could see that it was a man, probably the cousin, though I wasn’t sure as I couldn’t see very well. I was seriously creeped out because I had literally just walked into the door. I imagined one of those horrible date rape movies where a stupid girl opens the door to “known man in her life” and he proceeds to enter and take control of her. I’m not stupid. It’s perfectly possible that nothing bad would have happened, but I wasn’t opening the door. Needless to say, the knocking DID NOT STOP. I’m talking at least half an hour. Then someone called the house phone, which I also did not answer. If it was the cousin 1. I did not want him over while I was alone 2. He had no right to show up without asking 3. He had no right to show up without at least  warning me that he was coming over. The night before he had texted me that he wanted to come over, and I said no, I was about to go to sleep. Then he calls and says “hi, I’m here, come let me in”. Are you serious!??! I was in my pajamas in bed. God, I seriously just want to be left alone. Thank god, the family has now returned and I don’t need to deal with this problem any more. Though the worst part is that I can’t even talk to them about getting him to leave me alone, because they are all pro-family pro- misogyny women haters..even tho they are all women.

The mom today was telling me how weird Americans are that we don’t kiss and touch in public. I’ve tried to explain to her multiple times that things in other countries aren’t weird they’re just different. No. This is something they simply can’t wrap their heads around. So, we are so freakin weird because we don’t feel comfortable showing affection in public. I said that we feel more comfortable keeping it private, and that is just our culture. So the mom says, well how are people supposed to know that the woman is the man’s property if they don’t even look like a couple in public. Property. Woman. Man’s. Property. I have no more words. 

I guess it’s not fair to say that I hate this place and everybody in it. I’d like to say that I absolutely despise every man I’ve come across in this godforsaken place. I could even extend that, it’s not only the men who hate women here, it’s the women who hate women. They are so conditioned even as women, they buy into this whole thing. Honestly it makes me sick. They don’t even have anti- discrimination laws here. The daughter who’s a nurse told me that she makes less than her male co-worker with less experience. Not a hint of anger in her voice. She said that men make more money here and that’s just how it is.

…..Ok I’m again wanting to say I hate this…………I won’t swear…..I won’t get mad. I just about, almost, hate this horrible, disgusting, male- infested, grimy, hole of a place. I won’t use any worse words at this point. As I started to say before, I cannot claim that ALL the women are horrible and that ALL the men are horrible etc. Thank god I work in a school where the liberal people lie…..I can say that there are male professors in the school who I truly find to be warm and non-threatening. There are female professors who I also find to be warm and liberal. Lots of liberal people who I feel truly have my best interest at heart. My host mom would describe these male professors as the ones with “weird gay behavior”. Whether they are gay or not, I like them because I don’t feel threatened by them and they are not hitting on me. 

Except for one. Of course, it would be impossible for me to feel totally safe anywhere in this male- infested shit hole. There is one man at the school who will not leave me alone. At first, I thought he was being nice. He said he will take me to show me this, take me to show me that, blah blah blah. Oh he’s so friendly I thought, because of course the men in the school aren’t like all the others……Then I noticed that he’s standing too close…then I noticed that he’s coming to my classroom when the kids leave and I’m alone…then I noticed that he came to close to my mouth and lingered too long on our customary “hello” kiss. 

So anyways, I have no more time to write, I have very little time these days. But it’s safe to say I’m pissed and feeling total rage and hatred towards the men in this place. I feel like if I never see a man again, it will be too soon. I just want to be left alone. The rest of the people I can deal with, however, the harassing men, I don’t know how to deal with. I don’t know how to get them to leave me alone. Even my students made kissy noises at me (couldn’t punish anyone cause I didn’t know where it came from or who it was). I just find it revolting. Revolting is the perfect word. And god knows what these men get up to at night…I don’t even want to think about that. 

The Pinochet Mug

What does this mean? Why? I’m so confused about how some Chileans supported Pinochet until his very last moment. What good has he done that’s outweighed the bad? How can you turn a blind eye? I will be looking into this. I don’t know why they have this mug, what they think about it, or anything else. I’m scared to ask. But I was truly hoping that I wouldn’t see anything like this in the house. I don’t know a terrible lot about Pinochet, only that him and his government were responsible for the torture and killing of countless people. I know that some Chileans still feel connected to him. What I don’t know, is why. Any opinions?

The Family

My Chilean host family, another interesting topic. They actually just set off on vacation for the next week, which is how I have the time to be writing this right now. They are pretty overwhelming on my personal time, haha. 

So on that note, the family is caring. Overwhelmingly so, which may not be a bad thing while I’m in this city of “danger?”. Today I asked the older sister’s husband which neighborhoods to avoid, and he said “this one! and that one! and that one! all of them!” and burst out laughing. They certainly like to joke around… I don’t know whether to be worried or not. 

The mother is always worried about me. Since day one she has been pumping me with meds to prevent altitude sickness. Cocaine leaves and tea are the main remedy by the way. Yes, it’s legal and apparently also quenches your appetite and soothes stomach problems.

It’s funny because when you tell one member of the family something, word quickly gets around to the entire extended family. This weekend I had a pretty bad headache all day, I’m prone to headaches so it wasn’t anything new. The mom made a big deal about it, giving me tea for altitude sickness and making sure I took congestion pills and headache pills. I laid down for a little bit, came back out for tea ( we drink tea about 3-4 times a day with bread) and the mom was telling the sisters about how I had a headache and altitude sickness (they all offered their two cents). Then, when I came back down for dinner later, the mom was on the phone with the cousin, telling him about how we could make plans for the next day if I was feeling better from my headache. She them went on to explain in depth how “La Lauren” had a headache and wasn’t feeling good (the refer to everyone in Spanish as The Lauren instead of just Lauren). As someone who usually has to beg people to show me sympathy when I don’t feel good (sorry mom she really is much more attentive than you, hah!) I have to say I liked the attention. 

Though I like the attention sometimes, I’m also starting to feel a little smothered. Today, like I said, they left for vacation and the mom of course was hugely worried about my well-being. Do I know how to cook for myself? Am I scared of the dark? Call me for any and all reasons!….She has scheduled around the clock visitors and incessant phone calls.Today I have been driven around the entire city  to be shown where everything is, taken out for lunch, and brought home. Then I got a phone call asking if I ate lunch- yes, I ate lunch. Then I got a text from the cousin that he’s coming over later. I don’t want him to come over later, I feel more comfortable not accepting a strange man into my house while I’m alone (I convinced him not to come today, I hope I can continue that for the rest of the week). Finally, I got a message AGAIN asking me how I am and if everything’s okay. It’s nice, I won’t deny it, but ahh, they are smothering!

So, the family makeup. I have a host mom, and three host sisters. The oldest is 32 and lives in another house with her husband and two kids. The middle one is 25 and is a nurse who works 4 12 hour shifts per week in the hospital here (and then comes home and shows me pictures of what she saw that day, yuck, didn’t want to see that!). The youngest is 15 and goes to the school where I’m teaching at. She’s a very bright kid with a big desire to learn English. The father passed away a year and a half ago of lung cancer, though the family describes him as a healthy man who never smoked and always exercised. That’s another talking point, because it could definitely have a connection to the contamination of this city, even though the father never worked in the mine. 

Host mother Rosana and I ( in front of the welcome sign they made me!)

Host sister Zeukeng and I!

Host sister Sckarleth and I! ( In front of the copper-made mining statue in the center of town)

P.S- you can see in these pictures that it’s always sunny here. Always. That’s a really nice perk they I could definitely get used to. 

 

The mother told me that the reason I’m here living with them, is for the youngest daughter. She had applied for an exchange program where she would get sent to either the US or France (or something like that). The mother allowed her to apply, not thinking that she’d be accepted due to her young age. But she was accepted, and then the mom had to tell no, that she’s too young. The mom says that the daughter is in that typical teenage phase where she thinks she’s a grown woman when she’s not…and she didn’t feel comfortable sending her off to another country alone. So she made the agreement that they would apply to have me live here, since the school was searching for a family. Apparently they won out over a few different families, and here I am. 

The interesting thing about this, though, is that they don’t seem overly interested in the US or my life at home. They’ve asked a little about it, but very little. They spend most their time making jokes about Americans (gringos from Gringolandia) and making assumptions based off of TV shows….I swear, nobody ever believes me when I say that TV can change the world, but I’m telling you, it can. These people have their ENTIRE opinions about Americans shaped from Hollywood film. They think we’re all rich, spoiled, and lazy. I’ve tried to explain that many people clean houses, work in McDonalds, struggle as single parents etc. etc. etc., but then they tell the whole extended family that Americans don’t make any money. They have a hard time wrapping their heads around any other life but their own, and their knowledge of anything US is extremely limited. I mentioned Times Square in conversation, and they didn’t know what it was. Then again, I shouldn’t be the entitled American who thinks that I’m the center of the world, but I also thought that the family would be a little more interested in where I’m from and my culture.

Luckily, I don’t offend easily, and I spend a lot of time laughing with them about anyone who’s not Chilean (Americans and Argentinians mainly). A little bit of joking I don’t mind. But the anti- black/ anti- gay/ anti-women comments that the mother has made, seriously bother me. It seems that the mother and older sister are more prone to these comments (especially the mother) and the younger sister doesn’t like this kind of talk. I have been told that Chileans have closed minds in this kind of way, but it is something hard to get used to. I don’t want to create a war by challenging it, but I also don’t want to accept it. So far, I have been aiming for avoidance, largely by way of pretending I don’t understand. I will have to come up with some strategies for the future, or wait until I know them better and then voice my opinion. 

I’m afraid I’ve written too much, I have much more on the family but it will have to wait. I just want to end by saying that they really are very nice and sweet, though getting used to them has been a bit odd. They put a lot of importance on family, they’ve been feeding me well, always delicious food, and they’ve been very welcoming. If this post sounded too negative, I want to point out that I’m criticizing, but that they seem to be very good people. They have been very helpful and considerate to me. Think some nice things about them before my next post about the Pinochet mug…..

Calama, Antofagasta, Chile…the exciting part!

Since learning about my acceptance to this program, I have been anxious about the specifics of my situation. The program promised to tell us what region in Chile we were going to just two weeks before departure from our home countries. This meant that I signed up to teach English in Chile without having any idea where in the country I would be going.

Chile is a long country. It’s only the size of Texas, but it spans from Bolivia down to almost Antarctica. Bolivia=desert. Antarctica=penguins. I could be anywhere within these two places, leaving room for just about any kind of terrain.

My city, Calama, is up by where it says “Bolivia”

I ended up with Calama, a small “city” (cough cough, town) in the far North of Chile near Bolivia. I found out a little early about where I was going, because I received an email from my would-be host family.

I started out by being excited, even thrilled, with my location. I thought the family sounded awesome and the location would be warm and perfect. Then I started to read about Calama….

These excerpts taken from Lonely Planet- “It may appear drab and gritty but Calama (elevation 2250m) happens to be the pride and joy of northern Chile” Mmmm I heard drab and gritty.

“most people will only stop here for the night (if they have to)”  Well, that sounds promising.

I even stumbled upon a website that literally called Calama “a shithole”, I kid you not.

Well, this shithole is my new home, so let me tell you about it. Lonely Planet would go on to say that Calama is an economic powerhouse that provides wealth to Chile in the form of copper. Calama is a mining city that is largely (very largely) responsible for the economic well-being of Chile. Chile makes a lot of it’s money off mining, and this city is their main resource for copper, which they export all over the world. There are other cities in the North that contribute to Chile’s mining resources (yes, including the one where a bunch of miners were saved a few years ago- that mine is also in the Atacama desert, not too far by Chilean standards), but Calama is for sure the main one. The biggest open-pit mine in the world, Chiquicamata, is located here, and that’s where the copper mining is done.

The locals are very proud of being home to Chiquicamata, but (some) don’t deny the ugliness that it brings to this city. I have been told that Calama has double the amount of men as it has women. The miners work for periods of time, and then rest for periods of time (such as 4 days on, 4 days off). This brings a lot of men to the city for 4 days of partying, drinking, hanging out at strip clubs, at the casino, and hooking up with loads of prostitutes that apparently roam the streets at night in the center (prostitution is legal in Chile).

This isn’t to say that all the miners leave the city for their rest periods, lots of them also live here and do odd jobs. My host mom says that there is tons and tons and tons (and tons) of work to be had in Calama. That’s why they’re here. She says that it’s not a pretty city, but there is always work and that is invaluable. According to her, much of Chile has very little work, the south has very few inhabitants and very little work, and all the jobs and money are in the North. The majority of people here are some how involved in the mining- though this doesn’t mean they’re all miners. There’s a whole bunch of other jobs that come out of the mine, from shipping materials, to blue collar jobs, the management and other white collar jobs. From the influx of people to Calama, hostels, hotels, and restaurants also do very well.

With work, comes workers. This means that Calama is diverse. An actual diverse place in Chile? Yes, Calama is much more diverse than other places in the country and probably also South America. One thing that I have always noticed about South America, is it’s striking difference to places like New York and Boston where it seems sometimes that no two people look the same. Well here in Calama, there is a mix of Colombians, Peruvians, Bolivians, Chileans (and on the smaller spectrum supposedly a few American engineers and a Argentinians). It’s interesting because these people from other South American countries really do look different at first glance. Their facial structures are different, their coloring, their dress, their height- a lot of qualities. Calama is a place where many immigrants have come to find work. It could be compared, on a basic level, to Mexicans coming into America to find jobs. There are jobs in Calama. According to my host mom, the mine never stops looking for more workers. There are always jobs in Calama and that’s why so many immigrants have come here to live. From what I’ve been told, they are not “illegal aliens” and papers are not hard to get.

As for things to here…..I’ve only been here for a week but so far the guide books and people I’ve talked to seem to be right. Absolutely nothing. My conversation with my host mom today…

“So do people go to the park on weekends to hang out? Are their parks?”

“Very little, there is one park where people go”

“So do people go there to read, sunbathe?”

“Very little. They go there with their girlfriends or boyfriends, or to smoke drugs”

“So do people do outdoor exercise here? Do they climb the mountains? Go for runs?”

“Very little. Very few people run, they run in the streets because there isn’t anywhere pretty to run. Very few people climb the hills because there’s no shade and the sun is strong.”

“So what do people do on weekends around here?”

“Go to the fair, or get things done in the house”

Yeah…..So I guess I will either be traveling to other cities on the weekend, buying toilet paper at the fair (as done today, I have to admit, the fair offers lots of cheap goods including supermarket goods at lower prices, haha), or cleaning the house and having long drawn out lunches (also done today just like every other day).

So that’s Calama in a nutshell…have to go, my host sister just knocked on the door and asked if I want to go to the mall, that’s the final thing available to do on the weekends, so I better go do it!

P.S… I just got back from the mall with my host sister (exciting! not) and we had a conversation about the pollution and bad that the mine brings to Calama ( exciting! yes). She says that the people here are ignorant  to what’s happening to them. There’s a law by Pinochet stating that the money made here in Calama will be sent to Santiago and then be dispersed throughout the country. She says that the people here are getting sick from the mine, not getting the money or the benefits, and that they don’t know any better. Very interesting, and very different from what her mom has told me. The two seem to have some differing views.

Getting closer to Calama, lots of desert

Iona (the other volunteer here in Calama with me) and I freaking out upon arrival to the city after our 22 hour ride. “Let’s hide in the bathroom, go back to Santiago, and catch the next flight home!” “Deal!”

The beautiful desert wasteland of Calama

More picturesque views

Calama Centro, to be fair, I could definitely have gotten a more exciting shot

My house, it actually continues down the block on the left side that you can’t see, that part is mostly garages and storage. My bedroom is the one in the front where the window is. It’s nice, more pics to come.

The English Opens Doors Program, Orientation Week in Santiago

So I arrived in Chile two Saturdays ago…meaning that I am in my third week here, and that this is the first moment I’ve had any time to sit down and start writing my blog. So I will catch you up!

I arrived in Santiago on Saturday the 19th, put on my winter jacket (eek) and got my transport to the hostel with no problem. For the English Opens Doors orientation/ training week, all the volunteers were placed in Hostel Londres, which was across the street from the orientation site.

Over the week was a lot of meeting people, hearing their stories, asking the same questions about where they’re from and what region in Chile they’d be going to and such. It was really interesting to meet my peers and learn about their motives for coming to Chile. I found that everybody was extremely intelligent, motivated, and interesting. Many of the volunteers were a bit older than me, and quit their jobs to come to Chile and change the direction of their lives. I think it takes a specific kind of crazy to do what we all came here to do, so I had a lot of fun bonding with people who were a lot like me. I actually felt like I must be really smart and special, because everybody else certainly was. This was not a group of slackers. Mostly ivy- leaguers, people that had left successful, big time jobs, well- traveled people, people from France, Bulgaria, Scotland, England, Australia, India, New Zealand, and the US (luckily no Irish because I could barely even understand the Australians). A professional handball player, somebody who worked on the Elizabeth Warren campaign in Massachusetts, a girl who just got back from studying marine life in the Galapagos, a Harvard grad with a big time job lined up and waiting for him, an NYU economics major who gave up his law school scholarship to come do this. Definitely a very good bunch of people. Though I felt like the majority were way smarter than me, I did have a one up on many, because a lot of people came without any knowledge of Spanish!

And so began orientation week, which was very informative and really helped me to feel comfortable with what I am about to do. Though  we had just a week, the NVC (National Volunteer Center- the ones in charge of us), really were very thorough, so I have to hand it to them. We did teacher training and practice, and they even told me I had a natural “teacher voice” so that boosted my confidence!

The three individuals in charge of the teachers/ volunteers, had all been volunteers themselves for 2 services, which I think is about a year or more each. They told us their stories about how this experience changed their lives and the lives of their students, and you had no choice but to believe them because it seemed so sincere. I really do think that this will be a once in a lifetime experience.

I also found the staff to be very caring and concerned with our well-being (which seems to be a thing here, I’m actually feeling a little smothered with care), which I appreciated. They answered all of my questions, even the specific ones just about myself and my situation. At the end of the week they drove us to the bus station and personally put us on the bus to the North. So, armed with a bag of teaching materials, advice, phone numbers, insurance papers (and a bunch of food for the 22 hours bus ride), I was off to the desert.

Catch Phrase in the common room with the volunteers, a lot of laughing!

Drinks with the volunteers at a local cafe

La Moneda, government building Santiago

Last night in the hostel

Outside of the Peruvian festival in Santiago that we went to on Saturday

Tom from England and I in the common room