Capitana Cari

I’ve been spending a lot of time hissing at kids. Or one kid. There is a pack of boys on my street, and they all have individual things they do. One salutes me whenever I pass him. His name is Willis, and he calls me “Capitana.” Today, he hid around a corner and then jumped out when I walked by. He poked a twig at me and shouted “give me everything.” And then he shook my hand and saluted me. Another boy named Christopher acts like a motorcycle. I like to make raptor noises at him, and then he makes handlebars and vrooms down the sidewalk. Fernando likes to walk past my balcony and hiss at me, and then I hiss back, and he hisses, and we keep doing this until he’s out of earshot or I give up and just wave at him. The only problem is that hissing at people is a kind of common way for people to communicate. More specifically, men hiss at women as they walk by to get their attention. There is an internet café across the street from my house, and there’s often a group of young men standing there. Last night, I kept hearing hissing, so I’d hiss back, and then I realized that Fernando was not the hisser, and I felt real awkward. There is also a pack of girls who live around the corner. They have crazy names like Eulissa and Nikauli, and they like to whisper in my ears. I played tag with them on Saturday, and now every time I walk by, they wave and I mispronounce their names. I feel very popular.