Musings of a Volunteer

Having worked with CdA in the U.S. for two years now, I cannot express how exciting overwhelming it has been to finally visit our community in Jinotega.

One of the most special aspects of my trip is watching Nancy meet and interact with her student, 8-year-old Geovania, for the first time.  A shy, inquisitive girl, Geovania has an adorable smile.  Attached at the hip to her 4-year-old sister, Judith, and 11-year-old cousin, Karla, Geovania was glad to share her experiences with her family.  Nancy would come to use the phrase “my girls” to describe them and truly understand that her monthly sponsorship funds don’t simply secure the education for just one girl, but that of three.

Nancy received an invitation to visit Geovania’s home, one she gladly accepted.  I towed along for the experience.  A steep, steep muddy hill greeted us.  I cannot image how children run up and down this numerous times a day, let alone when it’s wet.  Keep in mind, we’re in Jinotega during the dry season.  In the tropics, there are times of the year when the rain pours from the skies for days on end.  Last year, it rained for 10 days straight at one point.  People in the surrounding areas died.

Geovania and family were waiting for us.  One of the nicer homes in the barrio, they have cylinder block walls that create a small livingroom and two bedrooms.  They have an attached washroom, which is three things combined: toilet, shower, and laundry room.  Like 99% of neighborhood, clothes are washed against a concrete slab, the same place the drinking water comes from.  The kitchen, such as it is, is a small stove-top rigged outside of the front door, under a corrugated metal awning.

Geovania lives with at least 4 other people in a space smaller than the room I rent in the States.  She does not have a refrigerator.  She does not have a plethora of toys to play with, nor does she have a closet full of clothes.  Her diet is limited to rice and beans, and she may eat meat and veggies a few times a month.  For everything Geovania does not have, I cannot help but be astounded — the girl lives with a smile on her face and she never asked us for anything.

We could all learn something from this little girl.

Monday, Monday

Luis, CdA guard, took us on a trek to find fruit trees this morning.  He’s in charge of the Ayudate Project, a community gardening project geared towards alleviating malnutrition through family horticulture.  It’s an exciting project for us and these trees are to be distributed to the families in our program, in hopes that the fruit will positively impact the diets of our students.

We wound up across town at the nursery pictured below and purchased some combination of avocados, guava, lemons, and oranges.  Afterwards, Luis left to find a horse and cart to carry the trees back to CdA.  In the meanwhile, we met two friendly young girls, who spent their time impressing me with their English counting skills.  We also met Henry, a man who was buying pine trees.  Henry had a Chuck Norris shirt on and I thought it was hysterical.  I told him it was an American ‘broma’ (joke) and asked to take a photo with him.  It was hard to withhold my laughter.

Eventually Luis arrived with the horse and cart he had hired.  Seeing the horse as it approached, my heart sank.  It was all-too-thin and had labored breathing.  We were intended to ride in the cart back to CdA, along with the trees and driver.  I immediately told Nancy the horse may die if we did that and said we would grab a taxi back.  We made it back first.  Thankfully, the driver eventually saw the wisdom in the water I offered when they arrived.  The horse drank the entire bucket.  The plight of horses, not dogs, would be a constant pain in my heart during this trip.

After lunch, we needed to find coffee.  I don’t simply mean a cup of joe — I wanted to purchase approximately 50 lbs of this local harvest for CdA to resale in the States.  First, I should tell you that you have not enjoyed a cup of coffee until you’ve had it at it’s source.  Andrea directed us to Flor de Jinotega.  I knew approximately how much I would pay per pound, but when I discovered they sell to Peet’s, my favorite coffee joint back in the States, I had to buy 10 lbs despite the slightly higher price.  The rest of my purchase came from a stall in the mercado.  The merchant was not, by any means, ready for such a big order, usually selling half a pound at a time to locals.  He called his wife, a block away at their other booth, and they measured out my order right there in front of us.  Talk about fun!  Too much more of this shopping stuff, and Nancy and I might have to give up our day jobs to become international product buyers.

Ceramica Negra

One of the jobs I needed to do when I was in Nicaragua was … *drum roll, please*… shop.  Yes, I’m serious.  Someone has to buy handicrafts to resale at fund-raisers in the States.  It wouldn’t be easy, but I never balk from a challenge.  *wink*

The ever-amusing Ruth as our guide again, we hopped on a bus traveling in the opposite direction of Selva Negra.  We were headed out to the countryside to find the artist’s that produce ceramica negra, a traditional art form of Nicaragua.  The scenery en route was beautiful.  Lush green set against Lake Jinotega.  The periodic home, farm, and herd of cattle reminded me of scenes I’d only watched on The Discovery Channel.  When you look closely, however, the poverty seems to jump out at you — homes patched with rusted corrugated metal, horses’ hip bones protruding sharply, and children with sunken cheeks.  Paradise isn’t supposed to be like this.

We got off the bus and followed a lonely street, lined with homes.  Ruth knew where we were going and we trusted she would get us there eventually.  By this time, Ruth has taken to calling me ‘lazy,’ which is particularly funny given her over-pronuncation of the ‘l.’  Sometimes she throws in “you are lazy and crazy…”  It’s like I have another 19-year-old sister.  Nancy, having fancied herself the grandmother figure in this adventure, finds us a comical distraction from the thick heat.

We reached the home of Carmen, a woman who has let previous groups from CdA into her home to have the full experience of ceramica negra.  We look over her inventory of items and I pick a few out.  She invited us back to her workspace, where both Nancy and I give the pottery wheel a try.  It was fun and my bowl was labeled a keeper.  After taking photos and video, we headed back in for more serious shopping.  We left with some nice pieces then moved onto the home and studio of another woman just down the lane.  After more shopping, it was time to head back to the community center, arms full of goods.

Selva Negra

It wasn’t hard to talk Ruth into guiding Nancy and me to Selva Negra, a coffee finca and ecological reserve just outside of town.  We took a 40 minute bus ride (a cultural event in itself) to the entrance, which was distinctively marked by a tank, a grim reminder of the recent civil war.  The hike in to the facility was beautiful, and we were finally able to  see the lush green rainforest up close.

I had three goals during this trip:

1. see howler monkeys
2. squeal at the sight of a sloth
3. find the cache hidden on their grounds

You see, I’m a geocacher.  If you aren’t familiar with it, I suggest you check out geocaching.com.  In short, it’s modern-day treasurer hunting using a GPS unit or smartphone.  It brings me many hours of happiness and it just so happens that Selva Negra posted a new cache just weeks before my visit.  I had to find it.

Unfortunately, it turns out that sloths and howler monkeys don’t just saunter out of the jungle when visitors arrive.  While we heard the monkeys, we didn’t see them or a sloth.  Le sigh.  I did, however, find the cache with the help of a kind and generous fellow geocaching employee of Selva Negra.  I giggled for days.

Nancy, Ruth, and I also enjoyed a delicious meal, sitting on the outdoor patio of the hotel.  We took a short hike through the canopy, and found the location of my wedding should I ever get married.  Selva Negra is home to an absolutely beautiful church, which would be ideal for such an event.  (I will post photos of the church when I get them from Nancy.  Silly Lizzie forgot extra batteries for her camera that day.)

After going through the gift shop, we headed back to the bus.  We spent most of the day at Selva Negra, but we needed to head to the cultural event we had been invited to at the art school.  The three of us met Sarah and Robbin (Ruth’s boyfriend) there.  We also had the chance to meet another Peace Corp worker, Julianne, before listening to various authors, bands, and poets perform shorts of their work.  A lovely end to a great day.

The Real Work Begins

Friday started early, but not because I wanted it to.  You see, the developing world is noisy.  Numerous roosters, doves dancing and cooing on the tin roof, dogs barking, and people going about their day before dawn — that’s the only alarm I need.  We were up and ready for breakfast.  All of our days would begin with eggs paired with rice and beans.  We were also offered toast and/or fresh tortillas on the side.  Many Nicaraguan dishes also call for fried bananas and cream on top.  Nancy and I would eat like queens the entire trip.

The kids arrived before 10am.  I had requested 10 of our students of various ages, but I got 22.  Nothing like a funny woman showing up, wanting them to do something strange — information travels QUICK in a community of little technology.  With Nancy’s fancy translating skills, we were able to tell them what we wanted — them to pose for photos that would be used for marketing materials in the States.

The response was less than enthusiastic.  We divided them into groups and haphazardly went about starting this awkward “photo shoot.”  Turns out funny faces are an international language.  Stick your tongue out and cross your eyes at anyone younger than 18, and they laugh.  Our photo shoot morphed into two hours of hysterical laughter and some really awesome photos (a few posted below).  The girls were good sports about the whole thing and even seemed a bit disappointed that we had to finish.  If you’re a talent scout, we have a few students in Jinotega just waiting to be discovered!

My day moved into a lunch meeting with Walter Hunchak, founder of Beca.org, another organization that supports the educational goals of Nicaraguans.  Walter and one of Beca.org’s students kindly drove from Estili to meet with me, Nancy, and our program directors, Fany and Flor.  We discussed the state of education in Nicaragua, as well as cultural views of university vs. trade school.  I learned a great deal from Walter and I am so happy we were able to finally meet.

At 3:30pm, Sarah (the PC worker) rang and we decided to meet at the Eskimo, an ice-cream shop.  As I was on the phone with her, I noticed a student in the library that I recognized from photos.  Ruth, I knew, spoke some English and was generally the go-to-girl for getting our visitors around town.  I looked at her and, without introducing myself (duh, Liz!), I said, “Can you take me to the Eskimo, Ruth?”  It would be the beginning of a fast friendship with one of CdA’s college students.

We met Sarah at the ice-cream shop, enjoyed a few bites’ reprieve of the heat and humidity, then headed to the local art school.  Turns out that Sarah takes classes there periodically, and I was happy to see the owner creating some fun things from recycled materials.  He invited us to a cultural event they were holding on Saturday and I happily accepted.  Ruth, Sarah, and I hit a few handicraft shops on our way back to CdA.  We found Nancy (who had spent all afternoon at the bank, then the dentist with her sponsored student) and headed to a “night on the town.”  We had a nice dinner before parting ways.

I Have Arrived

The ride north from the airport was beautiful and, oddly enough, reminded me of home. While the landscape was primarily green, a surprising amount of dry sage-like flora spotted the Nicaragua landscape. Raul, our trusty (and somewhat bi-lingual) chauffeur maneuvered us around traffic in a way that, surprisingly, did not frighten me. Despite lacking a speedometer, his truck was a happy reprieve from the all-too-claustrophobic clutches of air travel.

I was so excited to finally arrive here at CdA. Meeting the staff was truly special for me. I felt immediately at home. I promptly set up two donated flat-screen computer monitors that I hauled with me. Tonight and tomorrow we will spend a bit more time unpacking the rest of our stuff – all 250 pounds of it.

Within 30 minutes of our arrival, Sarah, one of the new Peace Corps workers in town arrived to do a weekly reading group that was recently handed over to her from a departing PC worker named Lauren. There had to be at least 25 students here and they were a good crowd. Despite our deep desire to rest, Nancy and I both postponed a nap to participate in both the book group and the jump-rope play time afterward. TOO FUN! (I do believe I impressed some of the kids with my mad jump roping skills.)

I had a RIDICULOUSLY hysterical time trying to communicate with some of our girls afterward. I do find it rather amusing that they gang-up on asking me questions when I cannot seem to understand them. Instead of asking the question in a different way, they just say it louder. Haha!! Silly kids.

I have had two absolutely delicious traditional meals, thus far. Here I was, hoping to LOSE weight on this trip. Guess I better put my walking shoes on. OH! And, Andrea, our housekeeper, also made us rice pudding. -Heaven-… there happens to be some in the fridge… that is approximately 15 feet from where I am typing this … hmmm….

Tomorrow starts with a photo shoot – I have requested that approximately 10 of our students come to be photographed for marketing purposes. At noon, I will have lunch with founder and director of Beca.org, another non-profit here in Nica. I am hoping to get information about the university system. I have invited Sarah, the PC worker, to dinner in downtown – my first night out in the big city! Nancy will go with us to make sure we stay out of trouble.

Despite the kids playing out front and the dog (Pechaco, the guard pup) barking now and again, I think it is time for a shower and sleep. I have a feeling this Eliza will be out like a luz in no time.

Nerves

I have another confession to make.

No hablo espanol.

Yes, you read that right: I do not speak Spanish.

Although I wish that two years of high school and three semesters of college language courses left me with a firm grasp of this language, I can assure you that it did not.

Don’t get me wrong, I know basics.  I know how to ask for food, find out where the bus is, and, most importantly, where the bathroom is, but much beyond that, you might as well be speaking German.  (Sprechen sie Deutsch?)

I’m not worried, though.  In fact, I have very few nerves about this trip.  I know there are at least two trusted people awaiting our arrival at the airport.  In Jinotega, our director, Fany, speaks very good English and my travel mate, Nancy, speaks Spanish.  Between hand signals and consulting my Spanish dictionary, I’ll be fine.  I’m not worried about violence or injury, either.  I know I’ll be healthy, safe, and well cared for.

So, as I finish up this post, wondering what I forgot to pack, I really look forward to meeting CdA’s employees, students, and the rest of the community we help.  I suppose it’s time to head to the airport.  Wish me safe travels!

The Web

I have an awkward confession.

Blogging doesn’t come naturally to me.

While I have always considered myself a writer, I generally hesitate from putting my musings on this world-wide web.  (Who wants to be stuck in a web?)  It’s an unfamiliar medium with the potential for unreasonable responses.  When you can’t be sure of your audience, how can you be sure of what to write?  It seems that the most prudent answer to this query is for me to simply communicate from the heart and believe that my observations will provide thought-provoking notions for any reader to ponder.

As such, I have titled this journal Eliza Luz in hopes of shining some luz (Spanish for ‘light’) on what it’s like to visit, and work in, one of the poorest communities in the second poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.  I dare say I’m not certain what to expect.  If my hypotheses prove correct, I imagine that this will create a major shift in my paradigm — one that I am both open to and ready for.

So, it is with some uncertainty that I write into the unknown.

Be gentle with me, o’ web.