Claudia`s family

Sitting in front of Claudia`s store front, two young women sipped rum and coconut juice out of hefty coconut shells, held in their laps. Claudia`s daughters, 13 year-old Sadie, and 15 year-old Mariela, lined up chairs alongside the women for a curbside chat.

Where are you from? How long will you be here? What does your jewelry mean? What kind of religion do you have? How old are you? Is there water where you live?

We are not speaking with little girls, we are talking to women who carry on a conversation proudly and without shyness. Sadie is a volleyball player and wants to try out for the national team so she can one day travel the world with her favorite sport. She also loves dancing. Mariela is stubborn, and argues with her sister over whether Livingston is an island.

Their mother, Claudia, joins us, exhausted after four hours of washing clothes by hand. Her face is radiant with energy, however, and she is eager to chat with us about everything and nothing.

Sitting there, we are not strangers or tourists, we are part of Claudia`s family.

We meet her son, Lester, and their neighbors, Angela and Andy. Soon we are swapping stories about life, from childhood or work, even movie plots. We gossip about the troublesome townies we encountered a few days ago, and Claudia tells us their long histories. Lester tells us the best place to get our hair braided, and how much we should pay for it. Claudia assures us that she offers the best tortilla in town, and we promise to come back for the savory meat, bean, and rice topped tortilla dish.

Meanwhile, Sadie and Andy break into a spontaneous drum session, beating sticks on the chairs with African and Latin rhythms weaved tightly together.

The day takes off it`s work clothes and slips into evening wear as we continue talking and laughing, sometimes only starting into space or greeting passers-by. We feel like these people are somehow reflections of ourselves, of our loved ones at home, and that we have always been a part of each others` lives.

Livingston is a place of old, well-traveled souls; they know who you are before they have met you. And you know them, too, as you always have.