Dinner Awaits Sandra Staas

On a hot and humid day in June, in 1993, I drove to Duquesne University in Pittsburgh to pick up three Nicaraguan nurses. They were being sponsored by various organizations in Pittsburgh, including Duquesne University where they were residing.

The idea behind the project was to bring a group of Nicaraguan nurses to Pittsburgh where they would learn new nursing techniques which they could use once they returned to Nicaragua. Why was I picking them up? Because yours truly was a Spanish Lecturer at the time and very keen to meet with native speakers. I was to bring them to my house out in the suburbs for an afternoon delight of suburban living and culinary tasty bites.

We chattered happily on the drive back to my house as they shared their impressions of Pittsburgh with me. ‘Big, big city.  Lots of glass buildings. Pretty ladies everywhere, with straight, white teeth.' These were just some of the comments they giggled about.

‘Sandra, how many children do you have?' That was the stocky nurse talking.

‘One', I replied.

‘Only ONE?????!!!!!!'

‘Well, I always wanted another, but nobody ever turned up.' ‘Ay!! Por dios. Sandra, I get you a baby. A lovely baby girl. Looks like you.' ‘Oh?' I responded, trying to be polite.

‘Si!  Claro que si! On the road where the hospital is that I work in, there are babies just lying there. The mothers can't take care of them.' ‘I don't think it's easy to have a baby enter the United States. I mean, you need documents.' ‘Documents?!!' She screamed, her mouth wide opened in astonishment revealing tiny teeth that looked as if they had been gnawing on bones.

‘Yes. Paperwork, you know.'

‘No, no. Not at all. Not where I come from. You nice lady. You need baby. I get you pretty girl. Free. No money. Nothing.'

I was glad when one of her colleagues, the short dumpy one, changed the subject and asked about plants which were native to Pittsburgh as we drove into my driveway.

‘Come,' I suggested to the nurses, ‘Let's go to my neighbour's house. She's out of town and I've offered to water her plants.

The nurses wandered about staring at the Begonias, the Daylilies, the Hosta, the Pachysandra, sniffing each one as they grabbed the petals and rubbed them roughly.

The stocky nurse who had short cropped hair and no make-up, whose name I later learned was Sara, yanked at the pachysandra and proceeded to put it in her mouth.

‘Hmm. Tastes not so good. How do you cook it?' She screwed up her nose and puckered her lips.

‘We don't eat it.' I mumbled, aghast at her thinking we would eat pachysandra.

‘You don't eat good, green plants?!  You only have one child? I no understand.' She patted my stomach roughly. Perhaps she was trying to make me conceive immaculately.

I was apprehensive about the upcoming meal I had prepared. Not only had I been offered a baby, one from the streets of Nicaragua, but my neighbour's plant, one that she was quite proud of, had been gnawed on. What else could possibly happen during this day with the three Nicaraguan nurses?!

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