Danielle in Nicaragua

Nica Trip, Summer of ’16.

During the 2015-2016 school year I was teaching English in Ecuador. Spaulding High School in Rochester, New Hampshire had given me their blessing by granting me a sabbatical to do this. I had planned to come directly home after Ecuador until I got an email from Jason Adamic.

Jason, a financial advisor out of Boston,  had gotten word of our ongoing projects in El Hatillo via his client, Harry Blackey. Jason and his wife Laura had been looking for a volunteer outlet for their family of three children; Anne Marie (11) Andrew (9) and Sara (8). They explained to me that they understand the importance of instilling a sense of humanitarianisim in their kids at an early age, wanting them to grow up as kind and generous adults.  Harry had mentioned our projects in Nicaragua and so the family started to be involved last year.

At that time the children saved their allowances to collectively buy materials to create hundreds of laminated bookmarks celebrating the opening of the library last July. My friends and I had passed them out during El Hatillo’s library celebration. At the same time Jason and Laura started to support Randolf and Guadalupe. Two students who needed some financial support to go to school.

Randolf is the son of Moncho, my Nica brother. Of all my nieces and nephew´s,  he is by far one of the most focused and hardworking, very respectful to all, and is incredibly dedicated to his responsibilities. Randolf had started going to UCAN, a University in León to be a civil engineer.

Guadalupe is one of six who had lost both of her parents at a young age. She lives with her grandma, Balsina, who is my neighbor. We had built Balsina an oven in the past and she uses it to sell baked goods. Guadalupe has also started taking classes in León.

For the Adamic family, it´s important to be connected. They wanted to visit El Hatillo and get to know the library and their sponsor students. Jason asked me if I would be their guide, even extending the generosity of covering my airfare (which is not in a Latin American teacher´s budget!) so that the trip was possible.

It was settled. I flew from Quito to Managua a couple days before the family’s arrival. Usually my days in El Hatillo are filled with tasks, but this trip I etched out more quality  family time. Years ago I had taken everyone to the beach for the day and I was taken aback by how much everyone loved it, kids and adults alike. I wanted to create another happy family moment by  brining us all together. Usually everyone is busy with work and school, and there is no money to spare for little trips or vacations, which is sad because El Hatillo isn’t even that far from the ocean (maybe an 1.5 hours in bus). I think the most important thing for me was to create lovely memories that my nieces and nephews could carry with themselves as adults.

So I talked to my Brother Vicente who had apparently bought a dilapidated mini van. Perfect! The day before, Horwing picked me up at the airport and we went shopping at the market. Norma cooked up a storm as usual the next morning and then we all piled into the mini van.

It was rainy season and Vicente and I were a bit worried but thought we´d take the risk. To our great luck, it was a beautiful day!

Everyone went swimming, even Norma skirt and all. In fact, she was in the water most of the time. It was so nice to see my family forget about their worries and responsibilities and spend the day laughing together.

Of course not everyone could come. Catia is now a mother and lives in León with her spouse. She  was worried about the rain for her baby boy. Duglas, Marta and José live up in Northern Nicaragua, and Delver was working hard at Volcano Mombotumbo. Still, I´ll continue inviting the everybody for beach days for years to come and whoever is able to make the trip is sure to have a great time.

In the following days, Xiomara helped me go shopping at the market in preparation for the Adamic family to arrive, and Naita, my neighbor was getting the room ready to receive them. I traveled to Managua with Christian in a Microbus that Delver had arranged for me. Jason and the family had gotten in the night before and stayed in the same hotel in which I had my Peace Corps Induction Ceremony. We found each other no problem. Everyone was excited about the trip and we talked the whole way.

We arrived at the elementary school teacher´s house as her daughter, Massiel (one of our librarians) came out to greet us. She called her dad Felix over to load up the luggage in his old faithful red pickup truck that never ceases to die! At the same time Randolf road up on horseback with Pata pata towing the line. Andrew, who has a fantastic curiosity and dare-devilish nature got right up on the horse with his new friend Christian and road home.

The next three days  spent with this family was heartwarming. I had brought many volunteer groups over before, but never children. I wasn’t sure how comfortable they would be, or their parents for that matter. But I have to say, it couldn’t have worked out better. Anne Marie, Andrew and Sara are lovely, curious, athletic, outgoing individuals with the adorable happy-go-lucky attitude that most kids have. They dove right into the community, instant friends with my nieces, nephews and the students at the school. They devised a sign-language system to communicate and they spent hours playing games and sports together.  Eventually their parents would have to pull them away to get some sleep. “Until tomorrow” they would say waving, dust sticking to the dirt on their faces, big similes. Jason, Laura and I just watched, mirroring their joy. This is what peace between nations and cultures looks like. “You are an example for adults around the world,” I told them later.

The following day we went to León with Randolf and he gave us a tour of his university. It was exciting for me, too because I had not realized the level and ability of Randolf´s aptitude and I was impressed with the amount of time spent traveling, creating, and studying he had to put in for his major. “He works until 12am on his blueprints, then sleeps and wakes up at 5am to continue. I hate going to bed before him, knowing he’s still up working,” Moncho told me. Moncho, who had been going to Costa Ricca for 3-month spans of time, laying brick floors in order to support Randolf in college. “My Dad works really hard, and I want to make him proud” was Randolf’s response. They are each other’s inspiration.

I wish I had gotten a picture of this, he also showed us models of buildings in the city (cathedrals, museums, etc…) he recreated. They were awesome! Jason and Laura and I were so impressed. We loved every minute of it. They asked him lots of questions about his routine and prospects for the future. Randolf is certainly a soft-spoken young man, but he really loosened up when the Adamics took us out to lunch and Randolf and Anne Marie were talking about their soccer teams and sara showed him phone videos of her gymnastics. He said to me, “It’s hard not speaking English, I wish I could talk to them more, they are so nice.” “That’s OK, I’m here to translate for you, and you know they are already so happy just to meet you and spend time with you.”

Before the family arrived,  I had gone over to Profesora Esperanza´s house to talk with her and Massiel about activities the kids could do together. I was thinking I would have to organize the whole thing but these women are so on top of it! They threw out some ideas and then took the ball and ran with it, essentially leaving me with nothing to do. Leave it to teachers. They rock.

So, the next morning we went over to the library and school while students were in class. Massiel and Arlen, our other librarian, had already organized all of the supplies Jason and Laura brought for the library. Class got out and children flooded in. They couldn´t wait to get their hands on the new coloring books the Adamics had brought.

Then it was time for the assembly. We all took seats and one of the teachers introduced us. They opened by signing the Nicaraguan National Anthem, followed by us singing ours.

Then the girls partnered up with a Nicaraguan student to read a bilingual book to everybody.

Then we watched traditional dancing!

At the end of the assembly Laura and the girls passed out supplies for making bracelets and Andrew helped me pass out bubbles. Kids could also paint their hand and sign the big poster the Adamics, Daniel and I had been working on that states: Somos Unidos (We are United).  Then a big game of baseball commenced.

At lunchtime when hunger kicked in everyone walked back down the road together, all of the boys running to catch up with Andrew, and the girls, slinging arms around their new friend Anne Marie and playing with the snow white hair of exotic-looking sara. The girls especially didn´t want to say goodbye, and walked us right up to the driveway.

We took the trusty red pickup to Moncho and Xiomara´s house for lunch, as a thank you for sponsoring their son. A few days earlier, when they arrived and entered Norma´s house, Moncho turned to me and asked: “That’s them? That’s Jason and Laura?” “Yeah brother, let me introduce you” I said, putting my arm around his shoulder. He was finally meeting the family that was the miracle answer to his prayers. I’ve never seen this man cry, but it only took as long as a hug to have all three of them in tears. One of most beautiful moments I’d witnessed in a long time.

After three days of hard work and play, it was time to travel back to Managua with the family. They would be continuing to the beach at Morgan’s Rock for a couple of days befor returning home. It was a hard goodbye. The kids and Daniel essentially adopted each other as siblings. Daniel had been with them all hours of the day to embark on the elating activities of playing soccer, glow light hot potato, racing down the road, riding horses, etc… The Adamics would talk to him in English and he would respond in Spanish, and 90% of the time, they understood each other. I kid you not. Hardly ever did they even seek me out, and it wasn’t to translate for them, but to ask me a word so that they could say it and translate themselves. It was so adorable it made me laugh and brought tears to my eyes at the same time.

So we were off in the morning, hearts full and rather reflective. I said goodbye at the hotel and went next door to the mall with my Microbus drive to buy more library books thanks to a generous donation from the continuous support from Selma back home.

I returned to the library that evening baring sacks of new books with the help of some lovely visitors. These girls had lived in El Hatillo and took English classes with me when they were younger. They had since moved to the municipal of Telica where their mother now works. The change was made when their father was falsely accused of stealing a motorcycle he had bought and has since been in jail.

I had a couple more days before my flight home and there was one more thing I had to do: Visit Dúglas, Marta, and José (finally!!!!!) When I was living in Nicaragua they were my immediate neighbors, in fact my brother and sister-in-law shared a wall with me. Marta was my best girlfriend and a very strong young woman to whom I hold my upmost respect.

Now however, they live way up north where they have a brighter future. Dúglas has found work as a sales distributor for the phone company Claro and Marta, the entrepreneur,  opened her own little hardware store.

Norma was excited for company and so, we made the long 8 hour bus journey together. (It could have been shorter if the bus didn´t go freakin´35 miles per hour!)

It was absolutely worth the travel. They were so excited to have us, and it was so good to see them.

Martha even took time off work to treat me to a manicure. Dúglas and Martha then took me out to a bar to go dancing. I didn´t bring anything nice, so Martha dressed me up.

The trip was short but sweet and Norma and I returned home to the heat of León promptly. I would be leaving the next day for Managua, Horwing as always escorting me out with my luggage and sending me on my way.

The only bittersweet part of my trip was not having my buddy Delver there. He had gotten married to his girlfriend Leslie in May, with a baby on the way and was working 7 days a week. He had always planned and implemented volunteer trips with me and loved every minute of that whole-hearted experience of bringing people together.  This time though, he only managed to stop by one evening to meet everyone, sharing a few hearty laughs with Jason and receiving some baby gifts before returning home.

I am able to coordinate and facilitate these volunteer trips on my own now, thanks to his guidance and training… but it has all stemmed from his resourcefulness and support, allowing us to accomplish all that we have for so many people. When I see him, I remember that he was the beginning of it all. I applaud him for his faith and selflessness in creating a better life for his community and impactful opportunities for cross-cultural exchange.  Thanks for all you´ve done, Del.

 

 

 

Back to Build a Library, July 2015

While in the Peace Corps, my Mom had mentioned on several occasions how beneficial it would be to have a library in EL Hatillo. I agreed, but never found a space of time within that two year service amidst our other projects. …So in 2014 we finally started planning it, rallying up the volunteers who had visited El Hatillo previously, communicating with community members of El Hatillo to help prep and advise us,  and dipping into as many avenues as we could find to fundraise. We set the travel date for the summer of 2015 with a great crew, most of whom had spent time with the community in the past.

At this time, I was also planning on getting my TEFL certification to teach English abroad. There so happened to be a branch of this intensive four-week class based in León. So, I went 6 weeks early, staying in León during the week and visiting my Nica family in the village on weekends to orchestrate prep for the upcoming project.

Delver, my counterpart and best friend, no longer lived in El Hatillo with the family, but has a job working at an energy plant at the base of Volcano Mombotombo near Managua, which is where he currently lives. It was difficult not being side by side for the first time in pursuing a project. He has a resourcefulness that cannot be matched. Still, I was lucky enough to be able to rely on my Nica cousin Horwing and my previous English student, Christian, who ended up doing a lot of the bulk of the work to help prepare.

These guys spend days doing hard labor for the project while I was phoning them from the states on skype, or in class in León. As it worked out, my sister, Marie and my Mom had time off to arrive in Nicaragua a week early before the rest of the volunteer group would arrive. We decided to rent a truck and a the Seahorse house from my friend, Sam Costanzo down by San Juan del Sur. We invited the guys to come with us to chill at the beach. Horwing, who is currently being sponsored by Marie and I to go to nursing school, could not get time off. But Christian happily accompanied us (and got in a lot of English Speaking practice)!

It was the first time for me driving in Nicaragua period, mind you it was also the two wildest driving situations I’ve ever experienced. 1. Managua = chaos. 2. The insane elevation on some of these dirt hill roads in which Same Costanzo choose to build his house. We would not have arrived in anything less than this pickup. Delver, although he had to work, accompanied us through the city as our human GPS machine. Our trip proved to include only one close call: Incredibly, delver got us out of a ticket (to get a gringo out of a ticket is a feat, mind you)… and one battle scar: backing up out of a cliff hanger driveway, I tapped the bumper.  All in all, we survived.

Day two was spent at Playa Maderas, soaking in the salt and sun.

But we didn’t just go there to relax. Our mission was to check out a library in town that had been set up by an American Volunteer decades ago. Today, Jane lives near the library and also coordinates social projects for children with needs. She invited us over to take a look at how the place is run and to buy a “library start-up kit” to help us a long with our own library.

On the same day that we drove back to El Hatillo, Delver was waiting at the airport to pick up the crew that would be arriving. No matter he doesn’t speak English. Almost everyone arriving has already had experience working with him and and know they are in good hands. He also had Harry Blackey call me in the airport just to be sure there was nothing lost in translation.

We all set up camp upon arrival, some staying at my family’s house and others staying next door at Naita and Sabino’s house. Day one we broke up into two groups and rebuilt ovens that Christian and Horwing had disassembled and removed from the library space. We set them up in people’s homes, where they will be more useful.

Day two: Start the library. We were lucky enough to already have a shell of a building. This space was the original one-room school house of the village in which Delver received classes as a child. Since that time two new buildings were erected adjacent to the old one. Since then the original building was used as nothing more than storage space for broken, discarded school desks and other materials.

On day three, by early evening, we pulled together a little community assembly to commemorate the library and celebrate it by having a party for the children. We dedicated the library to the souls of unborn and/or aborted babies. That, even though some are not given the chance of life, their creation is still important and has lead to the inspiration of this good service project, which will in turn better the lives of others.

Then christian fired up the music on his computer and we had a party, complete with piñata, food, and games.

We hired both Massiel and Arlen to be our librarians. They open the library five days a week, mornings and afternoons.

Finally, we could open the doors to the students, who were eagerly waiting!

Some other great memories:

A huge thank you to everyone in Nicaragua and the United States who understand the value of improving our communities and helping out future generations.  You who are inspired to not just dream but act, you are the difference in this world.

Meanwhile, in Ecuador

Hello to anyone who used to follow my blog. I have stepped back into Latin America, this time to teach English. I have a separate blog to record this new adventure. If you are interested please go here: https://latinamericaliving.wordpress.com/

The blog is called “Living in Latin America: Chapter 2”.

Best,

Danielle

Return visit in March

Traveling with Unlimited Possibilities: Joyce, Me, Bill, a Member of Women in Action, Phyllis, & Janet.

Since my service ended in August of last year I had spent seven months at home learning how to reacclimate. I eventually made gains with that challenge. The country I disliked upon arrival was the country I eventually grieved after leaving. Nicaragua had become my home, the people; my family and community. When I left in August 2011 it ripped a piece of my heart out and the only way to patch the hole was to stay connected with my life there, to stay active in the people’s’ lives.

Unlimited Possibilities (UP) gave me the greatest of opportunities to do that. Bill Cuff, co-director of the 100% non-profit, invited me to join some UP volunteers on the annual trip to Nicaragua. The UP team works with a well established women’s group in the struggling city-town of La Primavera located in the capital of Managua. The group is now 9-years in the making and started by American-born, Nicaraguan-based Michael Boudreau and local to La Primavera, Anna (I never heard her last name). Together, they went from a couple of plastic chairs under the shade of a Mango tree to an impressively large group of women congregating in their own meeting-house:

The first step of course, was convincing their husbands to let them go to meetings (thus all the evidence you need to see why a group to empower women is so important here), once assembled, they worked from the dust up. Now the group that calls themselves Women in Action has learned and created a beautiful array of hand-made artistry products for sale, a college sponsorship program for youth, weekly Sunday lunches for children who don’t get enough to eat (there is a school lunch program in town which many rely on during the week, but there was nothing to help support the struggle on weekends), there is now a whole network of local host families who take in US-based volunteer groups that are coming to La Primavera year round. We just so happened to be there during a visit from students of Champlain College, VT. The task for our groups on this particular visit was to help put up new roofs on family houses. The goal is to eventually put a new roof on every house belonging to a member of the Women in Action group.

                           

But believe it or not, the most important aspect for these women is not the service, but the relationship. And look at this wonderful way it is reenforced: one day of the trip is solely allotted to pairing up an American with a Women in Action member. Whatever she might be doing that day, you do with her: slap out tortillas, spend time with the wash board….listen to 80’s music videos? (they love the Michaels…. Jackson and Bolton that is). In my case I went with Karen to the market to replace the plastic chairs the VT group broke the night before (it was a rowdy game of Musical chairs with the locals and the chairs lost). Whatever you end up doing, it’s great because for many it’s a first-time first-hand experience, out of your comfort zone, and into the world of another. No Spanish? no problem. Love speaks every dialect.

Above picture is of Karen and I, but don’t go swimming! Lake Managua has been a dumping site for decades. She brought me down to show me the sad truth. You wouldn’t know by our smiles though. Despite visual impacts we did enjoyed our day together.

The most rewarding part of the trip for me was when the El Hatillo Farmer’s Community Bank arrived. If you don’t remember, this is the group that was years in the making, and had established themselves against many odds. At this point I had still not been back to El Hatillo since I finished my Peace Corps service, so it was exciting for me to see our group again.

They came mid-day, dressed their best yet willing to help with roofings. In the evening they were honored guests at the fiesta  Women in Action had thrown for us, and traveled with us the next day to see where Michael lives and works with local organic farmers.  The objective of the trip was to expose them to a safer, healthier, more environmentally friendly way to farm. The experience was invaluable to them. We had open discussion between the two farming groups over cups of homegrown organic coffee. The organic farmers were eager to share, and my group was eager to learn. I was elated.

                  

After we took a tour, witnessing the success of their system. Better still, we met with a large organic farmer’s union with whom we talked about the struggles and strategies of developing. They were also very interested in the implementation of our community bank, asking us questions and considering a future trip to El Hatillo. It was a great networking day for the farmers and very motivating on all ends.

The last days I spent with UP were in none other than my village! We stayed with my Nica family, my Mom waiting for us upon our arrival with mine and Marta’s little casitas freshly cleaned from the ceaseless dust and happily awaiting new friends. Many things were new to me. For one, lets start with electricity; blender! freezer! tv! light bulbs! For another, the floor in the house had a cement floor! And plywood put up complete with doors to divide the bed rooms! Even the kitchen was laid with bricks instead of nailed debris. Much thanks was due to my Mom back home who sent money to make it possible. Delver knew how to stretch the dollar and was working feverishly the last week to finish the kitchen half-walls before our arrival.

I was home, surrounded by my nieces and nephews, my second parents, my guard dogs, my ride (horse). Delver and I couldn’t have been happier that I had finally returned and we were together again in our own environment. It seemed that Bill, Joyce, Phyllis, and Janet were soaking it up as much as I was. Had I not mentioned? Bill was a Peace Corps Volunteer in the 60s. He was dropped in the desert and discovered two years later. Joyce’s heart remains in Africa where she was and will be returning to live the life of a volunteer in the world of Swahili. Phyllis and Janet both visited Joyce there for a months length of time. Phyllis comes to Nicaragua with large hoop earrings and speaking her Spanglish at the confidence level of a Native. Janet is soft-spoken but radiates compassion and love for every moment that passes by her. Needless to say, there was no babysitting these buccaneers. We adored every moment with them.

             

                

Our days in El Hatillo were spent making a barrel oven for my Nica bro’s wife, Oseamara. She loves to bake and had been more then patient with me waiting for her turn. I know she’s well deserving and grateful. While I was in Peace Corps I required oven recipients to pay for the oven materials because 1. I didn’t have the funds 2. they must be invested in the project to prove that it is important to them. (everyone wants an oven, not everyone would make use of it). Oseamara has already proven this to me many a time. She intends to sell her baked goods with her new oven. That is why UP donated the cost of the materials to her. It was a gift.

Our second day was spend putting up fencing around the school garden (also contributed by UP) to keep those darn chickens and pigs out. The students planted tomatoes and we made everyone’s favorite: chocolate chip cookies! (yes it’s their favorite. We voted last time in a cookie bake-off).

Our last day was a farewell meeting with the Community Bank… but with good news: Like the Women in Action, UP has decided to sponsor them as recipients to a micro loan on a 5 year plan. It works in the following way: the group is lent $2,00o the 1st year,  to be repaid (no interest!) in a year to date. If paid in full, $3,000 is alloted to them to be repaid the following year (if the group is unable to repay, the previous amount is considered a donation but they are not allowed to go further). This system continues to $5,000. The final year, if paid back in full, it is handed back as a donation.

This is great new for our bank because it secures continual development of the union. Members have also committed to donating a portion to a small women’s group if one does develop. The UP family was very encouraged to see the locals helping other locals. I was encouraged by everyone and everything.

At the meeting, handing out origami peace cranes to everyone.

This is where we say good-bye. I stayed behind to spend much-needed quality time with Delver and my family for the rest of the month… although we did meet up in Managua the next day for a Birthday lunch. Delver turned 28.

(Now they know how old you are 🙂  )                                          Some members of UP and Community Bank.

January 7th 2012

I’m back!

Did you think I was done? I’m not…life doesn’t stand still and so neither do I. I may not know where I’m going but I’m aiming for something worthwhile. I don’t think I’ve been derailed yet because a series of fortunate events has proven so:

My voice teacher, David Ripley from The University of New Hampshire, had written a song dedicated to El Hatillo in which he video tapped the performance and posted it on youtube. Viewers just so happened to include Bill Cuff, a former Peace Corps Volunteer himself, and Tim Churchard, a professor at UNH. Together they had created a charitable organization by the name of “UP” or  Unlimited Possibilities (http://www.updoitnow.org). The crazy circumstance? UP has been active in the Managua scene for years; Setting up volunteer trips to the capital and establishing strong ties to community members. To think they have been right under my nose all this time! 

And I never found them, they found me, via Ripley’s video. David was kind enough to set up a brunch for us all to meet. Good news came with breakfast: UP volunteers were going back to Nicaragua come the new year, 2012. They not only asked me to come, but asked me if I could set up a necessary project in El Hatillo we could implement together. Furthermore, when they understood that financially I couldn’t cut the expense of a trip, they graced me part of the expense, loaned me the rest, and expected to cover the cost of the projects I organized. 

Does something like that just fall into your lap? If God hands it to you, I guess so because I had nothing to do with this. I feel like I run around franticly, blindfolded, cotton balls in my ears, looking for answers and finally God, shaking his head and tired of my bad direction just says “Here! for Petes Sake!”

 

Sept. 1st transitioning.

Since I have been home, the days have smudged together and move as a continual stream of “being” set in motion. The space for assessment and reflection is not there unless I prioritize my day against the grain of N. American culture. I had fit well into the routine of my culture before, and found it unnervingly simple to slip right back in.

This troubled me. I know it will always be an issue I’ll need to keep in check, and I couldn’t believe that could be so after a 27-month period of opening my eyes to reality in a third world country. I learned a lot about society, about social norms, and that to some degree, we are all products of the social structure that surrounds us.

I wonder then, how many children would I have by now if I lived in India? And would I be disgusted having to cover myself in sheets to step out of my house in Afghanistan, or would it just be normal? If I were Israeli, and raised in an anti-arab house-hold, would I hate Palestinians for trying to take over my people’s Promise Land, or would I believe that it was an immoral act to expel them from it in the first place? If I were from the United States, would I _____________?

(Fill in the blank).

I am not saying that because one is N. American, they aren’t friendly toward Iraqis, or just because one has a beautiful house doesn’t mean they aren’t conscious of poverty. We may however, take for granted certain things unconsciously. Maybe you had thrown out a cucumber once, because it was moldy on one side but fine on the other. Maybe you are so focused on your pay check that you choose to work through holidays, maybe you never have time alone, and if you did, would never think to meditate, maybe you can’t remember the last time the entire family sat down for dinner together. Hey, maybe that’s normal.

And maybe there are other cultures that would see such N. American tendencies as absurd…

We, as members of a society, get trapped in mind sets and we put our own definition to “normal”.

I am trying to find a balance, if such exists, to enrich my life not only with the positive things that lie within our culture, but to also replace some of the short comings (which, let’s face it, are also abundant) with what I have learned and adopted from Nicaraguans.

To name a few:

*Patience (huge for me),

*Slowing down to live instead of check listing my day. Here we say “time is money” there they say “there is more time than life”, insinuating that time is plentiful, no need to be a slave to it.

*Putting family first

*Speaking of God in social settings without worrying about how people might take it.

*Empathy

Sometimes it takes stepping out to see in. Any culture could teach me how to do certain things better, or at least invite me to question why I think or act the way I do. 

In a world so complicated, so interrelated and yet so divided, it is a huge comfort for me to know that there are receptive, mindful, altruistic people in every corner of the world, and can live  as such in any culture. But in some environments, and for some people, it is harder than others, and there are plenty of disguised evils that corrupt what could have contributed to a better world. Such evils could be:

peer pressure, temptation, entitlement issues, fear of what is different…

That is what divides us.

To unite us then?

Cultural sensitivity, respect, and open mindedness. After living in two places so different, I’m cognizant of these needs as fundamentals for achieving peace between all peoples.

July 29th 2011

July 2011 is the busiest month of my service.

We recently discovered that I will not be replaced with one of the new volunteers who just swore in this morning.  A bit crushing, yes.

Since then Delver and I have been running around like chickens with our heads cut off (more or less, I think now seeing headless chickens, I can’t say the really run per say). I had kept many projects open-ended because originally I was working with the knowledge that I was going to be replaced, and now I’m hectically trying to tie up loose ends where I can.

It would have been and overwhelmed new volunteer’s dream to come to a site with organized projects. unfortunately, three trainees checked out, and furthermore no one had asked for my site at the site fair, everyone wanted to go up north where it’s cool (temperature-wise) and also cool (popular-wise) considering their young tech trainer, with whom the group spends most their time, had been a volunteer up there and raves about it. Hell, I’d choose the north too if he was selling it to me and I didn’t know a thing about my new foreign land.

No hard feelings, but a lot of hard work. I even went through a 3-day “I can’t leave these people, I should have extended another year” crisis (don’t tell my Mom, she’d bury me), until I knocked myself out of it and realized how much I needed some recovery health time back in my old original world.  So, instead of extending a year I then decided I wanted to just fast-forward the month and not bare the pain of getting through it.

The emotional pain.

If you have not been informed and didn’t figure it out from my blogs, my host brother-community counterpart is also the first love of my life. As the date of doom (a.k.a August 4th 2011) no longer creeps forward but is in an all-out sprint to the finish line, Delver and I are suffering from a substantial amount of anxiety. “ What will you two do?” Is the million dollar question that everyone asks us and we in turn ask ourselves. Then I am forced to bring up the dreaded subject of it-who-should-not-be-named (if you’ve seen Harry Potter) but I’ll just go right out and say it:

V-I-S-A problem.

And I quote: “Todo el mundo quiere vivir en Los Estados y nadie puede.”  ( “Everyone wants to live in the states and no one can.” )  But in this case, it’s worth a shot anyways. He’s got contacts: teams of American volunteers he has worked with that are eager to help and hire him. I can honestly say I feel good about it, and I’ve noticed a pattern: The more positive energy and goodness (when sincere) that you give off, the more you tend to be reimbursed.  And I have to say it again; I just have a good feeling. Meanwhile we are planing on praying a novena, something I did not know about until my Mom suggested it to me.

A novena is a series of prayers which are said over nine days (novena comes form the latin word “nine”). It is usually said as a request for assistance in something specific. There are plenty of ways to do it but I decided it would be significant if I  started on the 7th day of August, they day I begin what just so happens to be a 9-day fast and cleansing retreat in Costa Rica before I go home. Delver, similarly, will be praying for the same novena for the same series of 9 days. We are both praying on rosaries given to us from a darling lady who is part of my church congregation at home and who has taken the rosaries to Medjugorgie, Yugoslavia (where there are sightings of the Virgin Mary) to be blessed. We will be jointly praying for spiritual direction: for blessing on our relationship and help with our future endeavors, in which we may stay humble, maintain a desire to assist others, and grow in faith.

Aside from this loved one, I will also be separating myself from an entire community filled with people I love and who, in turn love me. It’s hard to see the potential of the students in my young english class, and know I am leaving them without many future opportunities. It’s hard to know I can come and go as I please to visit, but I can always return to a house with a floor in which I can walk around barefoot with clean feet all day. It’s hard to know that my new personal focus will be eating an unlimited variety of healthy foods and to get myself back in shape while my friends and family in Nicaragua’s first and last personal focus is the health of the corn and bean plants that must produce by harvest time. It’s hard, it’s all hard. I have a continual emotional battle that questions “why me and not her or him?”

I don’t know if I will ever be able to answer it.

July 4th 2011

Technology isn’t easy to come by these days. (That’s an understatement).  So… ‘nuf said.  I’m back. I’m still alive, hope you’re all still tuning in!

(This sign tells you where to go if a volcano’s about to explode).

A lot has happened since I last wrote of my sisters’ visit.  More work, revelations, depressions, mental highs, continuing projects. Time is not constant. It can’t be. How can life move so painstakingly slow and then so rapidly?

Since I’ve shared my last blog I had a friend visit, which always reminds me of  where I’ve been, where I am, and where I’m going. I say that vaguely, but it’s a loaded statement. Sometimes, because living in Nicaragua is my normality lately, I forget how it looks from the new eyes of and American visitor. She reminded me of the fears, confusion, and misperceptions I had initially (and how, miraculously, now they seem silly). She reminded me that I grew, but it had been a process so slow, I can’t put my finger on when that growing took place. She reminded me of the excess of North America and our entitlement issues. And finally, (and I am most grateful for this reminder) she reminded me that there is kind, good, willing people everywhere, and she’s one of them.  I was surprised when she broke down a couple times. She had moments of realization of how little people have, how large the struggle, and how kind they are to us in the meantime. I must have been a very unaware host, because she seemed to breakdown in the most “normal” situations.  But then again, this is not America’s normal. No sir.

As intense as it is sometimes, for visitors, it is also a splendid, captivating adventure. We had nothing short of it. We went to the Island of Ometepe in Lake Nicaragua. Something I had always wanted to do but never did because 1. The first time I was going to go with my sister the active volcano on the island was acting-up. 2. The second attempt to go with my other sister, we only had a full days time before her flight and realized the ferry itself was a 4-hour ride from Granada.

Last chance.

On the ferry.

3rd time = success! We took the ferry across the only lake in the world that contains fresh-water sharks, to an island with an active, steaming volcano.  (“This is crazy Danielle!”) but once we got there we found (besides the road signs that have a picture of a volcano exploding and say below “Evacuation Route”) that the island was extremely calm and tranquilla. It was all shades of green, wet, colorful, with amazing views. The people seemed so serene and content with their simple lives.

 

We stayed at a place by the docks the first night. Then took a cab over to the other side of the Island, where the other (non-active) Volcano Maderas rests. We made friends with the owner of the place we were staying, a Nicaragua who opened an ecological hostel, complete with an organic farm and organizes a local children’s English program. He offers a weeks stay free meals included if volunteers are willing to teach daily English Classes. (I may come back with my sisters and my Mom someday). My friend, being the journalist she is loved the fact that he could talk for hours about politics, education, and Nicaragua.

Biking on the Island.

On a rainy day (a.k.a any day of the week) we hired a guide and he took us biking and hiking up to a beautiful waterfall off the side of Maderas volcano.  I took a shower beneath it. If you’ve ever had the chance to bath beneath a waterfall, you know how invigorating the experience was.

us with our guide, Ramon.

May 22nd 2011

I passed another milestone when my sister, Marie and her friend, Taylor came to visit me.  I play mind games with myself to subside waves of homesickness, breaking my service into chunks. Hanging out with my sister had been long looked forward too, and  was like rejuvenation medicine. Even better, her and Taylor are troopers. I could take them just about anywhere and they’d be cool with it.  I say this because some people just can’t handle this kind of traveling experience. Especially us Americans who are used to having our own seat on a bus, air-conditioning in 90 degree weather, and some boundary lines pertaining to personal space, noise volumes, and “formality” by our cultural standards. Living here, there are a new set of standards, limitations, and normalities and one must learn to adjust accordingly… or you won’t survive!

We started out in my site and they helped me draw continents on the outside school wall for my world map project. They also joined me for english class, baking oatmeal cookies with my excited students after little english introductory presentations. (I was proud of them, they speak with confidence now!) While at the house, my nephews  soaked up every moment with them. Learning “Miss Mary Mack” with Taylor, and  thumb wars with Marie.

For Marie’s birthday, we spent almost the whole previous day making her an amazing chocolate coconut cake (made from scratch and local ingredients). It was high-class-restaurant worthy. For her actual birthday day, she woke up after a huge rainstorm to the family singing “las manañitas” (a traditional song you sing at dawn to the birthday girl or boy). We paid a local milk man for him to take us to Cerro Negro to do some “volcano boarding” We road in the back of the pick-up, ducking from tree branches and getting lost for a good hour before arriving. When we did, I realized it got it’s name. It was completely black and ominous against the blue sky. Once at the top Taylor had second thoughts about sledding down the side of it. Rightly so. Marie and I went for it though, being sledding dare-devils, and Delver followed at a snail’s pace, braking with his feet the whole way, tiny pieces of volcanic rock flying up in his face and covering his clothes. By the end he loved it and wanted to go back up again.For the evening, Marie celebrated her 21st birthday much like I celebrated my 25th.  We set up the table inside, invited some friends and had a small feast complete with the cake.

The rest of her short visit was spent first at the beach for a night, then in Granada. We actually wanted to ferry it out to Ometepe Island, but there just wasn’t enough time. It worked out for the better, though, because we then had time to go market shopping in Masaya (they had a list of people to buy gifts for) and spend the last day taking an art class, doing yoga, and just chilling out. We all needed it. They had just finished exams, and I am in a constant state of exhaustion, so it was such a feel-good day, and well spent together.

May 6th 2011

It rained once last week. Just enough to remind me of the smells of wet plants and soil. The heat just lifted off me like steam and it was the most relaxing evening I ‘ve  experience this summer season. Last month was a bit tough, considering I was sick for half of it. May welcomed me with food poising, which I think was from the fresh cow milk I boiled and drank greedily. It’s not everyday you drink milk, let alone hot milk, to try to quench your thirst, but I couldn’t put down anymore water. Nevertheless, the rest of the day I felt like I had the stomach of a pregnant water buffalo who couldn´t find water to cool off.

The next day was worse. I didn’t get out of bed until 2 for teaching my english class, which proved to be a bad idea. Halfway through class I ended up passing the chalk over to a student  while dismissing myself from class. I thought “just get down these two stairs and sit in that chair” and I did…unconsciously. Luckily I didn’t hit my head on the way down. When I woke up, all my students were gathered around me. They were so worried about me the poor little things! Christian, an older student of mine, walked me home after I excused myself to vomit. I didn’t feel half bad after that honestly. Meanwhile my students ran back to their seats and sat like little angels, eager to please. I think they thought it would make me feel better to see them reviewing the past days’ lessons. Showing me they could carry on class responsibly without me. (They were right, it did make me feel better).

Moral of the story: listen to your Nica mom and don’t get out of bed when you’re sick. It’s not the same as home in the states, when you’re sick and you miss work/school to curl up under blankets slurp chicken soup and watch Judge Judy for Justice (at least that what my sister does).  Blankets? Soup? How about a water infusion and a walk-in freezer? It’s hot here, especially for someone from New Hampshire who has always ran better cross-country races in the icy-cold sleet and snow covered grown. I’m out of my element here, and it brings in a whole new list of factors I cannot forget to consider.

It’s also not the same as New Hampshire when bats are swooping in an out of your room all night (because closing the window and door is out of the question unless you can sleep in a sauna) and rats are running up and down the plastic layer of your roof.

I found two solutions to these problems until the rains come: Neither includes a cat, because the last one was slower than the baby ducks that steal its food).

Solution #1:

*Buy La Pastilla del Amor. This pill is a highly potent rat poison that humans will sometimes take to commit suicide. It is known as “The Love Pill”  because it’s mostly taken in a Romeo-Juliet scenario. (Your lover doesn’t want to be with you or cheats on you or both and you can’t live without him/her). For this reason the pill is not sold to anyone. It’s usually just sold to older people who “seem stable”. Delver, I don’t know how he was allowed to buy it, because he’s not old. He is stable though. So we mix up a nice meal of ground cheese, rice, maybe even a piece of sausage if we really go all out, and stick it in an old tuna can and leave it in my roof (I have a two layer roof, that’s why it’s such a perfect place for rats to take residence). If by the next evening you smell something awful, congratulations!

Solution # 2

* I took the extra tijera (pull-out bed) we have in the house and sleep in the patio under the stars. There are night breezes, no bats swooping and no rat scratching sounds. And the starts are magnificent, the whole sky is lit up with electricity, and the whole town is black because we have none. And it is so peaceful and beautiful and finally I can sleep.