Touch Culture

Walking down even a busy sidewalk in a US city, people weave their way in and out of the throngs, carefully maintaining a personal bubble of at least a few inches in order to avoid brushing arms with strangers. Here in the campo of Nicaragua, no one seems to mind rubbing shoulders with their fellow street-walkers. On the narrow sidewalks of Esteli, people coming towards you push past you full-force, rarely bothering to dodge into the street so that you can pass without touching.

The whole culture of touch is different here. From the very moment you meet someone, you're kissing them on the cheek in greeting. There are some rules. For one, the kiss is really just a cheek-touching and a kissy noise. And for another, this greeting never happens between two men, though a man-woman cheek kiss is perfectly acceptable. That aside, almost every encounter between people begins with a kiss.

One day a group of students swarmed me outside of class, pressing in on me, asking if we were going to have class. They persisted and persisted and then one of them grabbed my arm and started shaking it around. By instinct, I grabbed my arm away and said, “Don't touch me.” To me, the touch felt like a breach of the respect that is owed a teacher, but for them, it was hilarious that I would tell them not to touch me.

Touch customs between strangers get even more interesting. Standing in the line at the grocery store, I always feel like the person behind me is standing uncomfortably close. So I edge forward the tiniest bit, and the person behind me inevitably edges forward as well. Sometimes I feel a little indignant; are they in such a hurry to get through the line? But it's not that at all – it's just that people here don't seem to mind being close to each other.

This phenomenon is carried to an extreme when boarding the bus. Fifteen minutes before the bus from Esteli leaves for San Nicolas, it pulls into its designated parking spot. People have already formed a line, but when the bus pulls up, all sense of orderliness implied by the line explodes. Men run from the back of the line to the back of the bus, where they know they can get in the second door to get a seat before they're all taken. Everyone else pushes forcefully forward, pushing each other out of the way with all their strength to get in the front door. Bottlenecks ensue and sometimes it takes a while before anyone at all can get in the door. Even family members, neighbors, and friends compete fiercely with each other, and no one seems to mind in the least the aggressive pushing and touching that takes place.

The only exception to this rule that we've noticed is between married couples. It might be different in different parts of Nicaragua, but here in the campo, you rarely see married couples together in public, and you almost never see them being affectionate – physically or otherwise – with each other. We haven't figured out if this stems from the machismo view that the woman's place is in the home, or if it's just plain old physical modesty. Whatever the cause, romantic touch in public between a married couple is almost nonexistent.

But for the most part, physical touch is a much more comfortable part of everyday life here, between strangers and friends alike. I have heard this same observation made of other cultures; it makes me wonder if the American culture of physical distance is really the anomaly on a world scale.