Nothing will emasculate a man quite like two cuddly, adorable kittens and one strong Latina woman. In fact, in the land of the machismo Latino alpha males, I am what the Ecuadoreans call a Mandarina, which literally translates to tangerine (which description I would prefer to its counterpart). Its urban dictionary translation was explained to me during a conversation with good friends Janet and Fredi. Janet is the daughter of American missionaries who spent most of her formative years living and learning in Ecuador. Her husband, Fredi, is a native-born Ecuadorean who spent 10 years living, working and raising a family in the United States. Janet explained how Fredi was extremely helpful in handling the daily chores in the home back in the U.S. However, upon their return to Ecuador, Fredi, according to Janet, refused to partake in the domestic end of the household in spite of the fact that he was essentially a stay at home dad, with their newborn son and 14-year-old daughter. True, some of his time was taken up giving music lessons, yet it paled in comparison to the 40-hour workweek of his wife. To my understanding, no self respecting Ecuadorean hombre would be caught dead doing woman’s work. And for Fredi, being an Ecuadorean citizen, he got to check his Mandarina at customs. However, as a gringo, my Mandarina was waved through. It was burdened with this Mandarina status that I embarked on my year in Ecuador… and being emasculated by two cute kittens and one Latina strong(wo)man.
While the stereotype of the machismo Latino may be alive and well, the one of the docile, domestic, dutiful Latina woman is a myth. From the very beginning and up until that ill-fated furry, frisky feline fiasco, we came in contact with strong-willed women, and much of it had to do with the machismo culture.
Despite its Catholic traditions, premarital and extramarital sex is frequently flouted, yet the use of condoms is seen as demeaning and against Catholic principles. And true to form, men engaged in pre and extra-marital affairs are commonplace. What’s left are men who abandon their paternal, familial and marital obligations and woman to clean up the wreckage. (To be fair, there is a trail right here in the United States of fathers who abandon their paternal responsibilities as well) The resulting dynamic is a matriarchal society that develops strong, assertive, and dynamic women. This was evident from the very beginning. Upon our arrival well after 11 pm, the university secretary met us with baby in tow, to help settle us into our home. We were then greeted by the landlady of the apartment building who also helped with the running of the family business. In both cases no father was visible.
A close associate was another example of the fearsome female. Maria (not her real name) observed first hand the philandering machismo influences of her father while growing up and was not going to fall victim to it herself. Married (though she soon disposed of her own philandering husband) and without children, her job and career were her offspring. When she gave a directive, such as adding extra hours or days to the workweek without compensation, it was met by the response…”Well, if that’s what Maria wants...” - her word was not questioned. And if there were questions, they were at your own risk, a risk that no one wanted to take. During one particularly contentious meeting she addressed some concerns in her usual straightforward (dictatorial?) manner. At the conclusion of her diatribe she asked for questions in a tone that dared anyone to ask any. Needless to say, none were forthcoming. Most women, however, did not demonstrate their command and confidence in such an acerbic manner. In fact, many were accomplished and assertive, yet accommodating and agreeable. One such woman was Adriana.
Adriana, like many of these dynamic women, will give you the shoes off her feet or her last dollar to help you out. But at the same time, she is no one to mess with, as two furry felines soon found out. Adriana has a heart of gold and a will of steel. She is a self-made woman who spends her free time teaching English to inmates at a local jail. She is also willing to help out in a jam.
One of those jams was to help us figure out what to do with two cats we had adopted. There were many things that I was looking forward to during our adventure to Ecuador: learning Spanish, experiencing a different culture, meeting new people, traveling to new places, and…being cat free for a year! Much to my dismay, my boys inherited my wife’s affinity for cats, and prior to Ecuador, I had lived with a total of five cats, with two currently living in our home. However, about midway through our year we met a lovely family who shared my family’s love of cats and just happened to have a litter of newborns. It was also about the same time there were meltdowns, homesickness, bullying at school, and the holidays… what would be a better pick me up than two cute, cuddly kittens? And it worked. Cayenne and Chili spiced things up and provided hours of joy, comfort and support for Greer and the boys. As for me, I did what I always do when it comes to cats… practice patience, acceptance and tolerance (PAT) and tell myself that I love my family more than I hate the cats. Yet, throughout the year, while my love of family never faltered (nor did my hatred of cats), my patience, acceptance and tolerance waffled, wavered, and waned. It would all come to a crescendo at the end of our stay.
For a variety of reasons we staggered our return home from Ecuador, not least of all the fact that we were all losing PAT, or at least I was. The boys wanted to finish the last two weeks of school back at home; they left the second week of June. Greer had a work project to attend and left the first week of July. I was left to close up shop, bring home the rest of the luggage, and find homes for the kittens by my departure date the first of August. How I, the loather of cats, became the realtor trying to find a home for Chili and Cayenne is beyond me, but it beat one of the alternatives, which was to challenge border patrol and smuggle them into the US. Hey, if 50,000 kids can cross the border, what are two cats? Yet, I became the reluctant realtor instead.
The cats had a sense that something was awry. Suddenly, the frenetic, kinetic, hectic household of frolicking adolescent boys became a still, docile den of tranquility. Gone were the playful romps between human and feline siblings. The cats were not the only ones to feel the loss. We had embarked on this journey together, and their departure signaled not just the beginning of the end, but left a void of a shared experience and challenge that we had gone through together. Though the serenity of the household was welcomed, the quiet was often deafening. When Grant and Garrett left, so did their energy and much of the reason we initially embarked on this adventure. What also left was the reason we got the cats in the first place, and the cats knew that. So when Greer left less than a month later, they were aware that the gig was up…and that I was no friend of felines. That being said, I was compassionate (as I could be) in getting them safely to their new home.
Adriana arranged for the cats to be adopted by a very loving family who lived in a rural area where the cats could roam free. But before they could become free-range cats, they had to be captured, caged and carted to their new home. Already annoyed that I was left with the disposal, I mean relocation, of the cats, I had counted on Adriana to secure a cat carrier, bring by the adoptive new owner and scoop up that cats like you scoop up cat litter and cart them off to their new home. Instead, she arrived sans cat owner and cat carrier and handed me a box and waited for me in her car, chatting on her cell phone, and leaving me with the unenviable task. One would think that the cats would have been thrilled to be done with me and moving to a new home where they would be loved and could run free. Yet, apparently they had grown attached to me and wanted no part of leaving. Or more likely, they resented the fact that I had disposed of the three people who truly did love them and what followed was a cat-tastrophy. What made me think that one cat would go willingly into a box and patiently wait there while I got the other to join him is beyond me, but what ensued brought back memories of the movie Jaws, when Roy Scheider’s character quipped, ‘I think we need a bigger boat.’ I knew I needed bigger balls. Cats screeching, hairballs flying, and after a few failed, futile attempts, one cat lay atop a cabinet out of reach, and the other had found an equally suitable nook to avoid capture. I meandered down to Adriana, with MY tail between my legs ready to give up and leave the cats for the next tenants. With all due respect, Adriana provided the bigger balls!
She began barking orders like a Lieutenant on a search and destroy mission. “Get me a towel!” as she scaled the countertop, over the ridge, through jungle bush, high into the mountainous kitchen cabinetry, high heels and all. With the deftness of years of counterinsurgency training, she smoked out the rebel cat and captured him in the aforementioned towel and the soon to be catatonic cat succumbed and surrendered to the shock and awe of Adriana. Her next order was to grab her a bed sheet… which she quickly used to wrap up the captured kitty faster than a cowboy can rope and tie a steer. The other cat, recognizing Rambo was coming after him next, decided to try and make a run for it. I ran after it in another of my failed attempts to coral the cagey cat. Sensing he was trapped, he made it for the only exit there was, an open window.
We lived three flights up, so it was quite the precipitous drop. Chili, or was it Cayenne, scurried up the wall seeking daylight, literally and figuratively, and darted out the window. Still chasing the cat as Adriana followed, I was frozen…frightened…fearful…unable and unwilling to act as the cat took two steps out the window and quickly saw what fate awaited him. Stunned, I hesitated, as Cayenne, or was it Chill, teetered on the brink. From the distance I heard…”grow some balls you fucking wimp and grab the goddam cat!” or something loosely translated, and it shocked me out of my deer in the headlights trauma; I jumped into action, and, using my lightening quickness and agility, I deftly rescued Chili/Cayenne from his/her ill-fated escape attempt. Actually, it was Adriana and her decisiveness that saved the cat, I was just the vehicle she employed to make it happen.
We are constantly being challenged by perceptions, expectations, and demands placed on us by society, our loved ones, and most importantly, ourselves. One thing I constantly say about my Ecuadorian experience is that I did not always like how I responded to situations; you can add the cat relocation story to that list as well. We also challenge images of manhood, masculinity, machismo… they all conjure up different meanings for different people. However, there is absolutely nothing manly about abandoning your children or family obligation under any circumstances. And, if being a Mandarina means caring for your children and family, being a responsible husband and father, upholding household responsibilities and childcare, and caring for two cuddly, cute kittens– then send me a bushel of tangerines.