Paranoia has set in, ladies and gentlemen.

I’m writing this blog in the moments following a normal night out on the town, but with a significantly different perspective this time around. When I first arrived here, all I wanted was a little bit of freedom- not going all out, mind you- just a little taste of the freedom I have come to enjoy as a grown woman on my own in Nashville, TN.

I always thought that I could handle the seedier side of this mission. After all, I had lived in Antioch, TN which is a den of gang activity and subject to constant gunfights and carjackings. In fact, I experienced my first drive-by shooting in my own quiet residential neighborhood and even saw a violent criminal shot in the head by a police officer while in the parking lot at the mall. I thought I could handle anything. Well, the reality is proving to be quite the opposite.
In the week that immediately followed the incident, I was shocked at the absolute calm I felt. Roman was visibly shaken by the attack and was openly coping with his feelings, but I- the one who had had the gun held to her chest- felt nothing more than the simple realization that these things happen and that life goes on. My first inkling that I might be somewhat traumatized by the event came while we were investigating the new housing prospects this weekend.

Our new home is in a nice neighborhood. If I haven’t mentioned this new neighborhood already, then I won’t here- just in case word gets out. Anyways, it’s a very nice and affluent neighborhood where children play on the streets in the evenings and the old folks come by and chat with one another through the gates. It feels very comfortable. BUT… around the corner is a Pulperia (general store) where we happened to see a few men buying beer- a hallmark of our previous neighborhood and also the home grounds of the gang that assaulted us. There were no recognizable gangbusters here, but I felt suddenly nervous and sick with fear. On the other corner is the Colegio Diurno (daytime high school), which I have never had any questions about as far as safety goes, but people hang out there all the time, so could I really say that it was safe?

Today was when it suddenly hit home. We decided to walk to our meeting at the Moravian church, which is only a few blocks away. Immediately after we walked out of the door, Roman remarked to me that we should’ve taken a cab, but I can’t justify the expense of taking a cab every time we leave the house- it’s much too expensive. So instead we walked, and everyone we saw looked suspicious. At times I even felt afraid that they were following us, even though we were carrying absolutely no valuables and had nothing they would have wanted. At one point, we were passing the Colegio when two groups of boys began yelling at one another. It was in Spanish, but the gist of what I got was one boy yelling “Hey. Get out of the way. Gringos.” And the other boy looking at us and laughing began yelling “Sacarle,” or “take it!” over and over again. Then a third kid said “No tengo mi pistola aqui,” which is basically “No. I don’t have my pistol with me.” When we finally reached the church, I can say that I was thoroughly terrified and ready to go home on the next flight back to North Carolina.

When I recounted the situation to our board, several replied that the boys had probably heard about the robbery and were teasing us, but I’d rather not find out. Another replied that in Costa Rica there is a saying that when a snake bites you, you’ll jump even when you see a lizard. I guess that’s right. I don’t feel safe around anyone that even remotely looks like a gang member. You know the type.

Later this evening, we went out to dinner (our stove doesn’t work- go figure) at that bastion of Gringo-dom: Pizza Hut. Afterwards I decided to go send my brother a birthday card at the local internet place- generally a very safe place- but this time things felt different.

First of all, we were suddenly aware of all of the men and boys who hide out in the park at night- something we would’ve blissfully ignored just a few weeks before. Secondly, every sense was heightened while we walked down the block. Suddenly I felt aware of every eye watching me, and I mentally recounted every article of clothing and detail of what I had in my pockets as though I had forgotten to remove some secret valuable that was now blaring forth through my clothing and out into the criminal underworld. Any money I had was immediately a liability, and even though I didn’t have enough in my pocket to pay for much more than cab fare halfway up the hill, I still felt certain that some ruffian would come up behind me with a gun in hand and demand that I give him all $2 I had and the cheap necklace and earrings I was wearing. Then I imagined his disappointment at my meager possessions and having him just shoot me for not having what he was looking for in the first place.

When we finally got up the nerve to leave the internet haven, it was terrifying. We knew it would take our trusty taxista 15 minutes to reach us, but I- still in naïve tourist mode- thought we could take a stroll around the dock while we waited. This was something we used to enjoy doing fairly frequently, just walking down to the docks and sitting in companionable silence while we thought about home, family, and our futures. Not anymore! This time I could see throngs of boys sitting at each bench, some lazing about with their attitudes out for all to see. Then, as if to warn us, a group of boys started yelling and throwing beer bottles down on the sidewalk just 20 feet or so ahead of us. We turned on our heels quickly and headed back to the internet café to wait for the remaining 12 minutes until we knew someone would be waiting for us.

At the end of our wait, we slipped quickly out of the building, but not without being spotted. From within the park I could hear a group of boys yelling “Mami! Gringa! Mamacita!” basically calling ME to stop and listen to what would either be lewd comments or physical threats levied against Roman and myself. So we ran quickly around the corner where we couldn’t be seen and waited the longest two minutes of our lives, with me nearly hyperventilating in fear. Although Roman tried to comfort me, I can’t say this enough- I was TERRIFIED.

I don’t know what to do now. Everyone assures me that this is what happens after you’ve been robbed at gunpoint, and that I will not be able to trust anyone for awhile. Well, I don’t have “awhile” to get adjusted. I only have two months before Roman leaves for the States again and leaves me completely alone through Thanksgiving and the first week of December. I don’t know what I will do, but I can promise you this- I’ll have to do it without leaving this house. I’m not going back out alone ever again.