Green para Gringa: Peace Corps Volunteer in Costa Rica (2005-2007)

I wanted to share with you an article I wrote & published in the Peace Corps Costa Rica newspaper about my experience as a minority volunteer in Costa Rica (November 2006 issue).


I had my interview with the Peace Corps recruiter in San Francisco, California. Many questions were asked and answered. One question stays with me to this day, "Most people think Americans have blond hair and blue eyes, what are yours plans to challenge this stereotype?" She told me a story about an African American volunteer who was in her group during her Peace Corps service. The volunteer had a hard time dealing with the racist remarks in her community and ended up leaving. With clarity, I tired my best to answer the question. "I would like to educate the people in my community that America is full of people from all over the world. That most of us started out as immigrants or are immigrants, like me. I would share with them my background and culture in America and what is like to be a Cambodian American." That was a year and six months ago. It was easy to say, but not so easy to do.

Ten months ago I settled into Las Delicias de Turrubares. Las Delicias is a remote town that runs off a dusty, red, dirt road in the mountains above Jaco. There are 174 adults, children and youth in my pueblito. My counterpart told me that I'm the first Peace Corps Volunteer that has ever been put in this town!


The first week, I walked around in my site and said "hola" to every person I encountered. I remember a 'super volunteer' advised me to do this during training. Although they gave me dirty looks and once threw pebbles in my direction, I continued my greeting pilgrimage.



I encountered racism from many people in town. The majority of the people called me a nica. I was not aware of this word. So I asked my host mom, "¿que significa nica?" "A nica is someone from Nicaragua. They are poor and very lazy. Por que?" she asked. I told her that people called me "nica" as I passed by. She said people think I'm a nica because I have dark skin. If anything, I look nica or indigenous. I don't look like an 'American'. She stressed that being called a nica is usually bad. I started an art class with the children. They asked where I'm from. I told them California. They laughed and said, "No really where are you from?" So I explained to them "I was born in Thailand, my father is from South Vietnam and my mother is from Cambodia, but I am an American citizen and have lived almost my entire life there." The explanations were going nowhere; thanks to my dark skin and small eyes I was nica china. It was difficult the first few months. It was hard enough I was still learning to speak Spanish but I look like a "nica" whom people in town look down on.


I started to educate my host mom about my culture. Among other things, I showed her how I cook rice and my favorite dishes that I learned from my parents. I told her in my family we eat rice everyday, three times a day. We cook rice with no oil or butter. We just cook it with rice and water. After the initial horror and comedy of the idea of cooking rice without oil dyed down, she told me that she wanted to lose weight. I recommend that she start with the rice. Now my host mom has lost 20 pounds! Other women in town are trying this too! One day I made one of my favorite Cambodian dishes, fish soup with vegetables. My host mom loved it and gave it to her family in town. Next thing you know it was "soup of the day" at the soda!!


Six months later children started to ask me how is California. I shared with them my life in California. People started to come around. They finally believed that I have lived in California; however I am still not an American.

A couple of months ago, I went down the hill where the poor Nicaraguan live. I went to socialize with some of the students from my English class. I shared with them that I was a "war baby." I was born and lived until I was 8 years old in a refugee camp in Thailand. They opened up to me and shared their struggles during the war in Nicaragua. That day, we realized that we have a lot in common. Now, I pass often on my bike, I once over heard them telling their friends and family who were visiting. "That's Yenly; she was born in Thailand, but lived most of her life in California. Her father is from Vietnam and her mother is from Cambodia, no not Puntarenas, Asia." I smiled with joy because I am very proud of my background.



In my English class racism does not exist. It is like we are in our own little world of peace! We have Nicaraguans, Costa Ricans and me, a Cambodian American. We laugh, learn and support each other. A couple of weeks ago, we played "Uno." I wanted them to practice their colors and numbers. One of the Costa Rican students had to either put down the color green or the number 5. He put down a green and said, "Vea, green para gringa, como Yenly." Everyone laughed and agreed that "green is for gringa, like me!" Does this mean they finally accept that I'm American?? Well it took 10 months for people in town to open my book and see that my brown skin might not make me the stereotypical American, but I really am an American.

I found out that the more you open up and share your background with people in your town, the more they can understand and accept you. So hang in there and have fun! I want to welcome new minority volunteers, to the challenges of Peace Corps Costa Rica!