Little Moments

My last post describes wanting to capture precious moments through photography. Let's see if was remotely successful:

The sunset from my roof.

The classroom of angels I teach English, acing their quiz on "city words."

At the end of the day, I realize it's not the photos that really mean so much, though. It's the experience of being in the moment, rather than the capturing of the moment, that is so valuable. For this reason, it's not every day that my co-teacher Leah brings her camera to class, or that I go to the roof for a sunset photo shoot. Most of the days are full of just the things I described before: work. laughter. play. study. research. spanish. patience. dirt. sweat. sun. rain. patience. love. frustration. ...did I say patience? I'm growing in respect for all teachers as I attempt to drive the bumpy road of education in español. And while these kids rocked out their English quiz, new lessons bring new challenges.

And as for the sunset, as for those beautiful, jaw-dropping, everyday moments of glory...those are the ones that make me sit back and send up prayers of thanks for what I am here on earth to enjoy. God's gift of nature is one that continues to thrill me, enchant me, and romance me, no matter where I go. Be it in Nashville, walking around the beautiful Vanderbilt campus in springtime, be it on a glistening lake in Middle Tennessee where I watch the fireflies shine their reflections on the surface as the day fades into night, or be it here in Nicaragua where I can let my mind reflect on the day gone by and the days to come as I stare into tiny peepholes in the night sky, my fellow PD Amelia leading us in rooftop ashtanga yoga...these moments of respite allow me to function. breathe. give. These times of rest prepare me for those which necessitate patience. Praise Him from whom all blessings flow...

A Thousand Words

There are times I wish I had a camera with me. When I see a gorgeous sunset from the Manna House rooftop. When I pick up my Children’s English class at kilometer 13.5 and drive their sweet singing bodies out to the library for an afternoon lesson, only to be stopped in the middle of the road by a 20-member herd of cattle (the kids still singing “Yo Te Extrañaré,” a new favorite of mine). When these same little rascals ace their quiz on city-words after I catch glimpses of them studying flash cards before class. When Marcos or Freddy or Lesther or Tatiana or Maycol or any of their precious faces reach up through the windows of our Patrol to give us a good bye beso, even if they call us mala (bad) for not giving them a much begged-for extra caramelo. After two more weeks of good attendance, these same little energetic bodies will be swaddled in neon life jackets at a special good-attendance pool party. Nervously eyeing the water, they will no doubt run about causing me no end of worries before they finally build up the courage to jump in, immersed in the coolness. They will say “es-swim” and I will say “sss-swim!” When I tell them, “No griten,” they know this means “Don’t shout.” Some may still say “es-shout” - as the s/consonant sound at the beginning of the words are always problematic. But what can I say, we’re working on it...

Yes, I would very much like to capture these moments in one beautiful photo. I wish I could describe the stunning simplicity of watching these children’s minds unfold to a world of opportunity. Education. Literacy. Mathematics. English. I may not have much to offer, but if I can serve as a bridge between these children and future opportunities, education is surely the best way to do so. We focus on education in the nearby communities of Cedro Galan and Chiquilistagua, catering to school children and adults interested in furthering their business/english knowledge. My time in Nicaragua has been all too brief, yet I already see the value in equipping people with literacy skills in Spanish and English. Spanish, because this provides once illiterate Nicaraguans access to their world, their politics, their news, their government, their people. English, because this gives one access to better jobs. A better future. A better life.

To Be A Kid Again

Some say that Disney World is the happiest place on Earth, and who can blame one for thinking so? Everybody comes together in one place to be with family and friends and just have fun. The magic of childhood comes alive with friends like Mickey and Minnie, and whole days are full of laughter, thrills, and wonder. I’ve had to the privilege of experiencing the enchantment of the Magic Kingdom, Epcot, and Hollywood Studies not once, not twice, but three times. (I never said I wasn’t spoiled as a child...) I’ve seen all the movies, I’ve ridden all the rides, I’ve even hit up Disney Land as a toddler. So, as a self-proclaimed Disney World expert, I reckon I know a thing or two about happiness. And although some might say that Mickey’s home is the mecca of delight, after last Wednesday in Managua, I’ve found a place that’s given it a run for it’s money.

Wednesday afternoon, our home was transformed by the 30 foot “Brinca Brinca” - a wginormous blow-up bouncy slide that was covered in suds for a three hour celebration of our literacy and math programs. The children arrived around 1:30 with a change of clothes and a LOT of energy. As they climbed up one side of the Brinca Brinca (literally translated, the “Jump Jump”), and tumbled down the other, we were caught up in the madness as we patrolled the flow of children, hosing them off and tossing the little ones in the air for added velocity. Running from the pool to the Jump Jump, it was a day to celebrate their hard work and accomplishments over the past year. It was also a day for the old PDs to say farewell and for the new PDs to say... “Is this really my JOB?!”

Basically, our house was the happiest place on Earth yesterday. Let’s just hope the joy translates into the classroom on Monday, when we take over the literacy and math programs...

With love,

Jan Margaret

Shoo Fly, Don't Bother Me

After a whirlwind kind of week, I am left changed, challenged, and confused as to how and what I should articulate in this post. Perhaps I could focus on the comedic and frustrating aspects of living in a house of 17, the emotional upheaval of divvying up programs for the next 13 months, or the joys of coming home to a group of new friends who can sympathize with the uncertainty we all face of the impending year. Moreover, at this point, I am already starting to wonder what people at home even want to hear. Life in Nicaragua is already seeming to get...normal. To the point where swerving around potholes, children, house-drawn buggies, and faded school buses as I drive the 15 passenger Micro Van (with manual transmission, might I add) is a fact of life. The geckos that live in my house at night, crawling across the ceiling and eating the night-insects...well, doesn’t every good home need those? The one thing that I am not quite used to are the two adorably evil rottweilers that guard our yard. Sidney and Cola have had it out for me ever since I spent the first three weeks of my time here challenging their dominion via staring match - who knew that massive guard dogs would feel the need to kill me if I stared at them? I thought we were connecting...but alas.

One thing, however, sticks out in my mind above all of these petty aspects of acclimating oneself into any new environment - the lack of opportunity for those so drenched in the murky depths of poverty. No matter the potholes and indoor pets, but the poverty breaks my heart in two. Making the transition from language school to program familiarization to Program Director, I have become aware of situations affecting different members of our communities. Child abuse and drug abuse affect not only those in the hell hole that is La Chureca, but those living five minutes down the road from me and my fairly comfortable neighbors. Cycles of poverty resulting in varying elements of abuse affect not statistics, but friends. Rapes occur 15 minutes away at 7:30 at night in a community that lacks the infrastructure to protect it’s people. In fact, I am almost overwhelmed by the lack of infrastructure in this country. Without safe streets or the ability to leave the home after a very early sunset, progress is inhibited. Without a legal system that can rally for the down and out, how can these young children break the cycle of abuse? And what is me being down here going to do to change the rotten status quo? How much can I truly empathize with the communities I work in when I know that at the end of the day, I have a bed, a shower, warm food - and heck, even wireless internet?

I may not be able to change the world; I may not be able to offer much more than a smile, or a shoulder, but I am here. Thank God I am so blessed to be here and am daily confronted with the reality of how the majority of the world lives. I cannot just turn away when I meet a new friend who spends her days in a trash heap and don’t even notice the flies that cover her body. I thought flies were for decaying carcasses, not people...and as much as I wanted to reach over and shoo all the flies away, I was paralyzed by a lack of knowing where and how to begin. If only flies weren't the least of the problem...

NICAyudame,

JM

Nicaragua, Nicaraguita - Life with a Nicaraguan Family

Nat King Cole calls it “unforgettable.” Here in Nicaragua, I call it “inolvidable”...that’s what these past two weeks with my new familia nicaraguense have been. Because I believe times like these are near impossible to articulate, the following is a sporadic and themed update of a few experiences.

Group bonding and Political Propaganda. You’d think after four years as an HOD-majoring, dorm-dwelling Sorority girl, I’d know a thing or two about group bonding and team building, but my last two weeks have been like Recruitment on steroids, only with fewer people, less Freshman girls, and more boys (and by more, I mean 4). With clases de espanol every morning and a packed afternoon of country and community acclamation, exhaustion and exhilaration were the two possible outcomes. At least I have the weekend, right? Well, Sunday the 19th marked the 30th anniversary of Revolución which overthrew the Somoza dictatorship, so with thousands of banner-waving Red & Black clad folks (I felt like I was at a UGA football game), I joined in the very celebration I was so ardently warned not to attend. In my experience, large crowds mean trouble in any country in the world. I was warned by several locals not to attend the event for fear of thieves, drunkards, and ne’er-do-wells. But I also firmly believe that as long as one’s smart, conservatively dressed, and not acting like a complete gringa (as in a loud and culturally-unaware American girl carrying lots of money), I think there can be safety in numbers. So with four amigos and one new Nicaraguan friend, we braved the Sandinista party propaganda in order to experience our own little piece of history. And guess what? I was right...I got to experience a piece of Nicaraguan history-in-the-making and see thousands of Nicaraguans celebrate the anniversary of their Independence. And although I don’t by any means align myself with the Sandinista Party, I must admit seeing people celebrate something of value to them was a heartwarming moment.

(the Sandinista bus comes to pick folks up for the Revolucion Fiesta!)

Heart aches. The first week was filled with afternoons of exploring the country with our language school. This meant plenty of hiking, volcano-viewing, and monkey-spotting. However, during an afternoon excursion of the city of Managua, I saw a sight that has literally burned an image into my mind. On top of a huge hill capped with the Nicaraguan flag and Sandino monument, I could see a view of the city and Lago Managua. Palm trees, blue skies, scattered infrastructure...and on the outskirts of town, right along the lake, a massive fog of thick smoke. Is this, it couldn’t be, but it must be...La Chureca? La Chureca is a massive municipal city dump on private property where the city brings all of it’s unsorted, unregulated trash (yes, this is where all those trash-cans full of TP end up), and rising up from this stockpile of filth is the thickest smog bordering any city and lake I’ve ever seen. My friend informed me that on hotter days, when the sun burns down on the old trash, chemical combustions sporadically occur throughout the dump and lead to the thick amount of smog. Random fires busting up in the midst of all this trash. Biohazards galore. Extreme pollution of natural resources. But what makes it worse? There is a community of several thousands living in La Chureca, making a home in combustible wasteland and making a living out of sorting through the filth for recyclables. Children are often put to work at this task of trash sorting, or else they may shadow Mom’s trash-collecting for the day for fear of staying home alone, fear of sexual or physical abuse. Many children in this community resort to glue sniffing - peeling away the soles of shoes and sniffing the shoe-glue in order to numb their sad realities. There is a constant prevalence of child abuse, child labor, prostitution, drug abuse, violence...so why do people live here? Because this is home. This is where family, community, and job collide. Without the resources to move off the land, start a new home, and find work in a country where the underemployment rate hovers around 46% and the poverty rate near 50%, the opportunities are scarce. This year, I will have a chance to work in La Chureca. Even still, we only enter the dump for three hours a day because the health conditions are so poor. Latino children have yellow hair. People have chronic illness and skin disease. But any little bit I can do to help this community, to work with them towards opening the doors of opportunity, I am ready to do.

(fumes rising up over La Chureca, on the border of Lake Managua)

Baile folklórlico. Nicaraguan customs and comidas (food) are two things I have sought to embrace upon entering the country about two weeks ago. In my homestay with Doña Francisca, I got to experience it all. For one, there is a fair amount of Micro-Business going on in Barrio La Luz, so I was only a walk away from 10¢ Choco Bananos, the local seamstress, and laundry lady, and my Madre was the neighborhood’s very own maker of nacatamales. This interesting dish combines meat, fat, cilantro, tomato, onion, dough, rice, and potatoes, all wrapped up and cooked in banana leaves. It has the consistency, when eaten, of mush...but a very tasty mush. They are eaten for breakfast on Saturdays and Sundays, kind of like I’d eat a cinnamon roll or breakfast casserole in the States! Besides this, there’s the daily serving of gallo pinto, a dish of rice and red beans eaten for breakfast and dinner. However, I had the best Madre in the Barrio, and she made me a variety of meals so I could taste all kinds of different Nicaraguan specialities. I felt completely embraced by my family, but I think the night that sealed the deal in developing a lasting friendship was the one in which Marcela taught me how to dance the baile folklórlico. This consisted in wearing a big red skirt, following her moves step by step, and twirling around to the tunes of Carlos Mejia Godoy (YouTube “Nicaragua Nicaraguita” and “Son Tus Perfúmenes Mujer” - my new favorites). There is nothing like laughter and dancing to bring people together. After saying a tearful goodbye yesterday and moving back into the Manna House, the family called me today to make sure I was doing okay. I am, as Doña Francisca would say, “Gracias a Dios.”

(posing with my dance teacher, Marcela)

Besos,

Jan Margaret

Real World: Developing World

"This is the true story... of ten strangers... picked to live in the Manna House...work together and live by one rule (Don't flush the TP)... to find out what happens... when people stop speaking English... and start getting real...The Real World - Developing World."

Team NICA 09-10

It's already become apparent that living in the Manna House will be like a season of the Real World, minus, of course, the video cameras and MTV madness. Ten different personalities, all living and working together for the next 13 months...this will be a learning experience in itself.

In just about 30 minutes, I will be leaving the place I've already learned to call home in Nicaragua, the Manna House, for a home-stay in downtown Managua. I have never lived alone with a Spanish-speaking family, but after study abroad in Madrid, I'm sure I will make many blunders with the Spanish language and new customs that will be sure to be comedic and hopefully not offensive. For the next two weeks, I will be living, eating, and speaking with a new family, taking language classes in the morning (thank God!), and doing cultural activities/program shadowing in the afternoons. I'm not exactly excited to be leaving the Manna House, but I know this home-stay is going to break me in to the language and culture of Nicaragua in a powerful way. Plus, as long as I can find a Coca Cola Light (that's Diet Coke for you folks back in the States) at a nearby venta, I know I can make it through anything!

Love from Nica,

JM

Nicaragua, Home Sweet Home

Hola from the Manna House!

After 3 days of a blissful orientation in Fort Lauderdale with the Nicaraguan & Ecuadorian Program Directors (PDs), I boarded a flight to Managua at 6:15 today with five Manna friends and a much better grasp of the goals and structure of the organization and the role I will be playing this year with MPI. Spending time with everyone before leaving the country allowed us to get to know all of the staff and PDs on both sites, as well as allowing us to enter Nicaragua with most of the awkward get-to-know-you moments already surpassed. As the old PDs greeted us at the airport and ushered us into the 15 passenger Micro Van, we were able to laugh, dream, and discuss the coming year in ernest with a certain degree of friendship already established.

Everything right now is, in a word, surreal. With only a 2 1/2 hour flight, I landed feeling like I was in the States, not in the middle of Central America. The skyscrapers and coastline of Miami had been replaced by the lights of tons of houses and street lamps, but I still had the sense of being close to home. Sure, the customs officer spoke to me in Spanish, but that's almost just as likely to happen when flying into certain cities in the Southern USA. It wasn't until I arrived at the Manna House, the place where I'll be living for the next 13 months, that the immensity of what I am doing started to hit. With geckos crawling on the wall, mosquitoes already nagging at my feet, rain beating a soothing rhythm on top of the house, and palm trees growing right outside the door, I'm certainly not in Tennessee anymore. And I love it. In learning about the organization and the Program Director position at orientation, I realized anew what a wonderful opportunity this is to learn, promote awareness, help inspire community development from within, and meet truly incredible people in the process.

It may not hit me now what a big task lies ahead of me, and maybe I should feel more overwhelmed...I'm sure that time is quickly approaching, but as for now, I just feel incredibly blessed to have the opportunity to live and love in Latin America.

Buenas noches from my first night in Nicaragua,

JM