One of the first Spanish words I learned was "pájaro." Although I was 18 or so the textbook resembled something designed for kindergartners. Learning a new language makes you a child again in your ability to think, communicate, and be taken seriously. Next to the word pájaro was a brightly colored drawing of a bird.
Some Spanish speaking countries use pájaro to mean that but the DR is not one of them. Dominicans use the word "ave" for bird and pájaro to mean other things.
During CBT when a moth flew into the house my host mom called it a pájaro.
"¿No es un . . . mariposa de la noche?" (It's not a . . . night-time butterfly?)
"No. Es pájaro."
OK. So, if ave = bird then pájaro = moth.
Later, when we were watching a horror movie on TV she called a vampire bat with a human face a pájaro. I didn't ask her but quietly updated my mental definition to mean "weird flying thing."
One day, here in our little town in the mountains near the Haitain border, Cat was walking to a meeting and passed a group of them taking pictures of the fearsome looking scarab, held aloft on a stick.
"Excuse me," she said, "what do you call that insect?"
"Pájaro." Of course.
"Is there another name, maybe more . . specific?"
"Pájaro malo." (Bad pájaro).
We've since heard slugs, spiders and centipedes called pájaro even though they don't fly. So, pájaro = "bug?"
When I showed a local woman a video of the solonodonte and she called it a pájaro I almost yelled at her. It's the size of a small dog! When I was carrying a bucket of water from the river and someone asked me if I had a pájaro in it I just sighed and updated my mental dictionary. Pájaro = "critter."
That definition held rather satisfactorily until last week. Cat and I were sipping coffee in the galería of a neighbor when a local seminarian walked by. He's a nice guy. Thin, always well-dressed, and scrupulously polite. When he borrowed a book from us he made sure to bring it back promptly. After he passed, our friend whispered to us that people say he is a pájaro.
I flashed back to college Spanish, when a professor carefully explained to us that in addition to it's literal meaning pájaro had another less formal connotation. No, he didn't tell us about bats and moths, as helpful as that would have been, but he did explain that pájaro, when applied to the type of sweet young man who helps old ladies to church, has the same connotation as the English word "fairy." That is, a derisive term for homosexual. It's not nearly as offensive as the standard Spanish "maricon" (f*ggot) but it is still not a nice thing to whisper about your neighbor.
Dominicans have adopted the English word "gay" and use it with the same neutrality. When reporting on the Orlando massacre this summer the news here called the nightclub a "discoteque gay." But Dominicans on the whole are not neutral about gayness. The whispers of our neighbor had little to do with Catholic prohibition or rural conservatism. When President Obama appointed the openly gay James Brewster ambassador to the Dominican Republic many Dominicans took it as an offense. When Brewster dared to visit an elementary school with his husband they called for his resignation.
There is a pride parade and a few clubs in Santo Domingo where it is OK for men to dance together but outside of the capital few Dominicans are out and neither are most PC volunteers. Openly gay volunteers might not be exactly unsafe but would not be respected and would have a hard time professionally, especially if they worked in the schools. If you want to get work done, you stay in the closet.
We, a married heterosexual partnership, as privileged a union as exists here, maintain a similar reserve. When we discuss the issue with friends we are careful to phrase our questions neutrally. We do not explain our decidedly pro-gay sympathies or ask where there's lie. It is literally a situation of don't ask don't tell.
There's no good way to end this entry because the issue is not ended. I hope that the DR will undergo a transformation in their attitudes towards homosexuals like what has occurred in the US but I'm not holding my breath. I continue to hold my tongue, however. Dominicans have their own culture and values - distinct from mine - whether I like it or nor. Working around this gap, being "comfortable" with it regardless of how uncomfortable it actually is, is part of service. Even if it bugs me.
