Rabbit and the Bear

Rabbit and the Bear (Lyrics), a song that has provided me encouragement and motivation, two needed elements in my line of work...

photo of La Chureca; Managua, Nicaragua

And now proceeds my post, which I didn't have a title for other than the above fitting song:

Two days a week, I walk into La Chureca to visit the families involved in Manna’s Child Sponsorship. Two days a week, I trample the trash, hold my breath through the smoke, and sweat under the sun that is endured by Churecans day in and day out. Two days a week, I pass children carrying loads of trash on their backs to be recycled. I greet mothers suffering from ever-present illness. I avoid mangy farm animals who look more like walking nightmares than pets or food. I see people dwelling in a veritable hell on earth.

Seven days a week, I hope for a way out. I coordinate efforts with the Child Sponsorship team to enact new measures to increase the efficiency of our program. I look for new sponsors. I dream for a better life for the children who know of nothing more than life in Chureca.

Every week I visit a family with precious little girls who have captured my heart with their funny haircuts, sweet little pipsqueak voices, and increasing desire to play and be held. They live on the border where the neighborhood merges into the dump, and the view from their front gate is trash, smoke, and the occasional flea-bitten mongrel. But one day, as I held one of the tiny girls in my arms, she looked out over her shoulder, pointed to the trash, and said “¡Hay flores!” There are flowers. Look! Flowers! Do you see them? We’ve got lots of flowers, and animals too! She showed me the beauty she finds in her life, the only life she’s got. Where I saw heaps of trash and green plants growing in puddles of sludge, she saw beautiful flowers. She then ran down to a row of weeds growing along the wall of a nearby home, and pointed out more “flowers.” Her joy was contagious, but as I picked her back up, acknowledging the beauty of the flowers, I fought back quickly forming tears. The injustice of what some children have or do not have is a heartbreaking reality I must face every week.

If she can find beauty in La Chureca, I can too. I find beauty in the people who work to provide for their children and in the mothers who consistently attend health charlas (talks) to learn better health practices. I am encouraged by the mother who makes her child change clothes three times a day to keep clean. I am impressed with mothers I see sweeping the entrance to their homes, cleaning in spite of the fact they live in close proximity to a dump (or perhaps cleaning because of said proximity). Not all are like that here, perhaps not all can be, but the ones who fight for themselves always encourage me.

Walking into La Chureca, I notice every day the bright yellow butterflies which twirl about. They are not ashamed of the smoke, the dirt, the trash. They remain a constant reminder of the life that lives here and of the reason Child Sponsorship is so important. The value and dignity of human life necessitates the meeting of basic needs. For only $20 a month, these children can be provided a means to better health, quality of life, and increased opportunity for a successful way out of the desperate existence which surround them.

To find out more, contact childsponsorship@mannaproject.org.

Yours,

Jan Margaret

Willie Wonka of the Woods

It’s not every day that I’m able to escape the daily grind. When I live, work, socialize, discuss, learn, argue, laugh with the same nine others, day after day, it becomes easy to be focused on the here and now of life. Now granted, when the here and now includes working in Nicaraguan community development, that’s not such a bad thing. However, with the anniversary of both the conquest of William Walker and latin american independence from Spain allowing us a four day vacation weekend, I took the opportunity to escape Managua and Manna for the cool air of the mountains North of Estelí. With four friends, our packs full of extra food, a change of clothes, and our yoga mats, I headed North by bus to Tisey Nature Reserve. Tisey is a land of changing terrain, including rolling tree-covered mountains, fertile valleys, cow pastures, organic farms, and (apparently) the best cheese farm around. Our only self-imposed “rule” for traveling these lands was thus: No talking about Manna.

No talking about Manna?! No discussion of my work, what I’ve lived and breathed for the past two months? My very purpose for being down here? No sharing of stories and frustrations? No lesson planning? No discussion of the house? Nothing?

Yes, nothing. And the decision to take a break from what we have centered our lives around gave me the space to reflect more seriously about the role I’ve played, what I’ve learned, and how I hope to see the community grow. Moreover, the five travelers broke down barriers imposed by the ease with which we center our knowledge of each other on our jobs. We discussed our pasts, the things that make us, us. We laughed, joked, hiked, enjoyed the best gallo pinto I’ve ever tasted, and reveled in once again seeing something new. And we had a fine time doing it! I realized the importance of getting away: to learn about others, to learn about yourself, and to open yourself up to new lessons waiting for you in the chance to travel.

A certain lesson awaited me just down the road from our Eco Posada (Eco Lodge). After a brief hike down the road, through a pasture gate, down the mountainside, past the cows, and over the rocky slope, we were greeted by a man who seemed to have walked right out of the pages of a good novel. Seventy-seven years plus, tall with weathered red skin and a mop of white hair, grizzly stubble, and eyes that seemed they knew the secrets of the world, he welcomed us into his reserve. He was lanky and strong, a man of hard labor, wearing clothes that seemed to be a daily uniform of coffee colored shoes and pants and a loosely buttoned striped shirt. He smelled like a grandfather, the musk of mountainside and tobacco. A sculptor, his name was Alberto, which he proudly showed us chiseled upon rocks along the pathway while explaining that he’d been learning how to read and write. He led us on a personal tour of his art and his land, showing us rocks that had been carved into elephants, camels, self portraits, and guardarbarrancas (the ave nacional of Nicaragua). As we made our way up the hill, he began to pass us fresh mangoes he found along the path. After each of us were happily chomping through our own delicious piece, he continued to discover more of these delicacies which we placed in my companion Daniel’s pack. Next, we saw trees filled with yellow-green grape sized fruits. Adding these to our stomachs and pack, we continued forward, now seeing whole murals etched into the mountainside: an image of September 11, a nativity scene, doves, crosses, sun, moon, and stars. I felt like I was in Willie Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, only instead of chocolate, there were delicious edible fruits to be enjoyed in every direction and wonderful artwork to gaze upon. When we reached the peak, Alberto perched himself on a bench and offered Daniel a smoke. Against the backdrop of the mountains, valley, distant city of Estelí, and his artwork, Alberto shared his story.

During the night of one childhood birthday, he dreamed that he would grow up and share with his people and the world the culture of his country. He dreamed that he would inspire people with art. Over a half-century later, sitting against the mountainside, looking over the beautiful land of lagunas and volcanoes and his handiwork, I can see that Alberto has lived his dream. “Everyone has the five senses that God gives them,” he said, “We just use them in different ways.” Upon descending the mountain, I was challenged to reflect upon the talents and opportunities I’ve been awarded throughout my life and how I’ve used them. I was touched by the tenderness of this man’s care for people for he’d just met, how he’d filled our bags until they were overflowing with fruit, how he’d shared with us his life and dreams, and how he’d inspired me not to doubt my abilities to use each of my five senses to the glory of God and the betterment of my fellow man.

In the same way I was opened to new lessons this weekend, I have been available to learn more in Nicaragua with my focus far from the worries, concerns, and trivialities that plagued me in Nashville. Things I thought were so important, aren’t. Some things I had not valued before, I do. Thank God for my very own Willie Wonka of the woods - a man who, instead of filling me with chocolate and sugar, filled me with the fruits of the fields and the fruits of his labor. A man who taught me never to underestimate the power of dreaming and the ability to do.

Yoga on the mountaintop, in the midst of a cloud

The trail to Alberto's house

Fresh limones

Alberto displays his fruit...

...and his art

"Everyone has the five senses that God gives them. We just use them in different ways."

How am I to use my life?

Afternoon Delight

I recently took over responsibility for the Child Sponsorship blog and the planning of the CS field trips. Every 3 months, we plan a fun outing for the families involved in our nutrition program. In July we hosted an afternoon of recreation and relaxation at the August family’s community center El Salero.

Imagine my delight at seeing a school busload of children and their mothers arriving at the beautiful August property for a Sunday afternoon of grass-frolicking and gallo pinto. Now imagine their delight. These children know the dump as home. The smoke, the trash, the constant illness...this is their reality. But this day was special - even just being in a place that was clean, where you could pick the ripest mangoes straight off the green grass, run shoes off through an open field, play on the jungle gym or in the basketball court - this was worlds apart from these children’s day-to-day reality. Mothers relaxed in the shade of a ranchón as their children played in a safe place. We gave gifts of children’s books as a despedida from the old team. Since then, the new CS team has formed to continue the work towards eradicating childhood malnourishment in La Chureca. I encourage you to read about the new team at http://childsponsorshipprogram.blogspot.com/.

The following are some photos from the El Salero field trip.

These children are in great need of sponsors. For only $24 a month, they receive oatmeal, milk, and vitamins. They were recently tested for both anemia and parasites so that appropriate medicines can be given to counter these ailments. They receive weekly visits from the CS team (that’s me!!), and the guardian participates in a weekly health talk at our partnering clinic Casa Base de Salud. If you are interested in learning how to sponsor a child, please email childsponsorship@mannaproject.org.

In love with the children of Chureca,

Jan Margaret

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