Today, I had a frustrating moment with Jaimito. The frustrating moment is one that I live repeatedly in other contexts in Puerto Rico. It is a frustration that I attribute to cultural differences and not some ingrained natural biology.

It seems I was wrong, maybe.

Jaimito came to me with a pad lock I had oiled and left on the table. Javier had reached up and decided that he would play with it. Yuck. Jaimito dutifully took it away from his little brother and brought it to me.

"Daddy, Javier had this."

"Oh, thank you, Jaimito. Could you put it back where he can’t reach it?"

"Yes, Daddy."

What a sweet little boy, Jaimito is.

About five minutes later, I got up from my desk and went to wipe down the lock and put it back on our gate. "Jaimito, where is the lock?" He immediately directed me to his toy box. Then reconsidered and pointed me in other direction. When it wasn’t there, he took me to our bedroom. It wasn’t there.

"Maybe it’s under your bed?" Like, Daddy, let’s go through the standard places to look when something is lost.

"Jaimito, you just had it, like five minutes ago. What did you do with it after you left the room? Remember, you said that Javier had it?"

"Um, I… uh, maybe it’s over here," and he dashed off again.

I was getting frustrated. "Jaimito, the lock is the heavy metal thing that you had in your hands five minutes ago that Javier had grabbed. What did you do with it? Why can’t you tell me what you did with it? Did you forget?"

"I don’t know," he said beginning to cry.

And so it spiraled downward from there. Jaimito bawling, me, if not yelling, being downright grouchy for the lack of a simple direct answer as to what happened to the damn lock.

"Jaimito, the lock is the thing that goes on the gate, that keeps it closed."

And through tear filled eyes, he exclaimed, "Oh, that," and brought it to me.

I was dumbfounded, irritated, and befuddled. It dawned on me, this has happened more times in Puerto Rico than I care to mention. My son, has the manner of indirectness, of not disappointing, of not saying no, not questioning authority, not complaining, not back-talking, just making it happen. My father asked me for something, he seemed to say, and I shall fetch it, even if I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about.

I explained to him, that if he didn’t understand something, he should ask for clarification. I’m not so big and scary that he couldn’t have asked, what’s a lock. He nodded while wiping his tears.

Maybe I am scary.

"Jaimito," I told him, "just say you don’t know what I’m talking about and ask me to give you more information. There’s nothing wrong with asking me a question. Don’t be afraid to ask questions."

"Okay, Daddy." And I gave him a hug.

In Puerto Rico, when asking for directions, many an American can recount with some frustration at never being given a straight answer.

Is it close?

Yes yes, very close.

Is it far?

Ma’am, do you wish it to be far? Well, yes then it is far.

Do you know the area?

Yes, of course, I know a shortcut.

How much is it going to cost?

Not much. It is cheap I assure you.

Is it any good?

Yes, best quality.

What seems like dishonesty, hides a profound deep truth about Puerto Rico and Puerto Ricans of the island. They don’t like delivering bad news to your face, or rather they can’t bear to be the bearers of it. And if humanly possible, they won’t be. They will transfer your phone call until you give up. They will give pathologically optimistic estimates.  They will smile as they tell you what you want to hear.

They will work tirelessly in a futile quest all for you, so that you are not disappointed so that you are not unhappy. They earn their reputation for great hospitality, friendliness, and helpfulness, but sometimes, a well-placed question for clarification or a simple "no, I don’t know where such and such is" goes a long way to being helpful, at least to this Gringo’s sensibilities.

So after all of that, the American asks, "Why didn’t you just tell me it was going to take this long in the first place? I could have made other plans."

The Puerto Rican, shrugs, smiles, and undaunted replies, "Ahorita (in a little bit)."