Ometepe

Apparently a church group from the United States is coming to do some work in Valle de Granada this week. This is a pretty big deal considering how many communities of poco recursos (few resources) there are in and around Granada; much less in all of Nicaragua, much less the world. No one really knows how this group found out about Caracolitos, but I’m not too surprised. I have no doubt that this is Doña Sandra’s doing. Because of this, we spent last Friday cleaning up the building as best we could in preparation for the gringos arrival. Although I anticipate that a tiny part of me will be almost disappointed to see other Americans running around in what feels like my neighborhood and playing with my neighborhood kids, I am of course excited about the amount work that could potentially be accomplished by this team. There is certainly much to be done here.

~~~

Friday after work Shaun and I rushed to pack our things and head off to Ometepe, an island in el Lago Cocibolca (Lake Nicaragua) made up of two giant volcanoes.

Shaun and I went with Melissa, Marion (a recent college graduate and assistant program director of Viva Nicaragua), and two of Marion’s close friends who are backpacking through Nicaragua and Costa Rica this summer. Ready to go, the six of us began walking through the streets of Granada towards the cemetery to catch the bus. Just as we began, so did a typical afternoon rainstorm. After reaching the cemetery completely soaked, we piled on an extremely crowded bus, standing room only, for the hour and a half trip to Rivas. From Rivas we shared a taxi to San Jorge, from which we took a ferry to Ometepe.

Some photos of me and Melissa on the ferry and arriving at the ¨port¨ on Ometepe (volcanoes Concepcion and Maderas in the background):

We spent the next morning on the beach, looking up at Volcán Maderas, the volcano we intended to climb on Sunday. After a couple of hours we decided to check out a relaxing water hole we’d heard about called Ojo de Agua. We began walking down the road and were soon offered a ride in the back of a passing pickup truck. From there we rode to Ojo de Agua and spent the day reading, swimming, and enjoying our pre-packed snacks of platano chips and corn flakes.

Photo in the back of the truck on the way to Ojo de Agua and hiking through the plantain forest leaving the water hole:

Like I mentioned in an earlier post, I’ve since finished all of the books I brought with me to Nicaragua. My efforts to find English titles in local hostels was largely unsuccessful until Melissa found an old, torn-up copy of Harper Lee’s “To Kill a Mockingbird” in a nearby café. We brought it with us to Ometepe. This edition is one of those great paperbacks published years ago —the kind whose text runs across the entirety of its crinkled, yellowing pages with barely any margin on either side. You know the kind I’m talking about? The kind whose cover page is ripped off by now and the binding is worn and creased from having been laid on its face too much? Yeah, that’s it.

Anyway, I let myself be engulfed in 1930’s Alabama last weekend, reading by the water in Ometepe. One of Marion’s friends happened to bring the same book, and we passed our two copies around until almost every member of our group had read the entire novel by the end of the weekend. Thoroughly wonderful; a great read.

After chilling by the water all day, we walked back to the hospedaje (hotel/hostel) and caught a van to our next night’s lodgings—an ecological finca (farm) in the secluded hills. On the way to the finca, we stopped for dinner at a comedor, a restaurant-type establishment which really just looked like someone’s house. Melissa and I ordered pineapple juice with our meals (I drink fruit juice at least twice a day here, guaranteed), and we saw them go out into the selva with a machete and cut down some pineapples before blending them up and serving them to us. Needless to say, it was the most fantastic pineapple juice I’ve ever had.

After dinner we tightly squeezed back into the van and headed for the finca. With six people, six regular backpacks, two backpacker’s backpacks, and some typically unreliable Nicaraguan car parts, our van huffed and puffed its way up into the hills and mountains towards the finca. Close to the top, our van suddenly jerked, made a loud popping sound, hissed, and promptly began to slowly roll backward down the mountain. A few tense seconds and some louder popping and more violent jerking later, and the van came to a tentative halt.
It didn’t take much discussion for all of us to agree that we’d prefer to walk the rest of the way. So we kindly thanked our driver and quickly scrambled to exit the untrustworthy vehicle. Fortunately, it was only a short walk through the pitch-black forested road until we arrived at our finca and checked in for the night.

A photo of the finca in the morning:

~~~

I was excited for Sunday morning to finally arrive. Besides simply seeing the island itself, climbing the Volcán Maderas was one of the main reasons why I came to Ometepe. Apparently there have been a small number of foreigner deaths over the years on Ometepe’s volcanoes, and for that reason it was required that we climb with a local guide. (Don’t worry Mom; I happen to believe that this rule is more of an effort to create local jobs than a signifier of the actual danger of the climb.) Nalgenes filled up and sack lunches prepared, Shaun, Melissa and I (the same crew that climbed Mombacho together) woke up early and waited for our guide to arrive, a contact we had met the day before. A half an hour later, he hadn’t arrived. Dismissing his tardiness as a classic example of typical Nica “punctuality”, we continued to wait. Two hours passed, and we concluded that something was amiss. Apparently his car broke down on the way to the finca (like our bus the night before) and instead of calling us, he simply went home.

Knowing that the hike was supposed to take about 8 hours and that the sun began to set around 5:00pm, we were worried that we wouldn’t have time to track down a new guide and complete the hike before nightfall. That’s when the dueña of the finca told us that she had a guide we could use. Mainor, a 16-year-old boy who worked on the farm, could take us. We gratefully accepted and Mainor quickly grabbed a backpack and water bottle and led us to the start of the trail.

Mainor was wonderful. A shy high school student, we chatted (when I could catch my breath, that is) about life on Ometepe, his future plans, etc. Once he finished high school on the island, he plans on going to college in Managua and studying tourism, a very popular field here for many young people. Mainor had hiked Maderas five times before, and he shared with us that he really enjoyed the climb. Shaun, Melissa, and I marveled at his super-human ability to leap up boulders and navigate the tricky trail without even breaking a sweat.


For us gringos, however, the climb was a much more taxing one. The phrase “dripping with sweat” doesn’t even begin to describe the state we were in on this hike. My quick-dry Nike shorts were completely soaked and my hair just as wet as if I had jumped in the lake. I am not exaggerating. The hike itself was probably the most intense I’ve ever done. Trudging through the rainforest-like selva, most of the trail was a thin, rocky creek bed which turned into a small river in the rain. For much of the hike, especially the last half, we were climbing on our hands and knees, hoisting ourselves up the slippery “trail” with roots, boulders, and muddy footholds. I loved it.

Some pics of the trail:

At one point Mainor informed me that we may not make it to the top, that we would soon be forced to turn around because of the diminishing sunlight and our late start. We convinced him to let us continue on another half hour before turning around. Powered by adrenaline and our mental desire to make it to the top, we practically sprinted up the nearly vertical, muddy “trail” until we reached the highest point on the volcano (I’m sure we weren’t really sprinting, but it certainly felt that way!).

After reaching the highest point, we descended down an incredibly steep path (if anyone really did perish on this volcano, I imagine it was here), which spit us out by an amazingly calm and serene lagoon. Enveloped by the clouds, this little patch of flat, green land was a crater in the volcano. There we rested and ate lunch before forcing ourselves to head back down the volcano.
Although I honestly loved the intensity and challenge of the climb, it was certainly hard to will myself to leave that lagoon.

The hike down was only slightly less tiring than the hike up, but certainly more treacherous. The formerly steep, muddy, uphill climb was now a steep, muddy, downhill ski slope. Between the three of us, Shaun, Melissa, and I tallied up around 20 falls, face plants, and wipeouts on the trek down Volcán Maderas. About 8 hours after we began our adventure, we arrived back at our finca and the base of the volcano, safe and sound, feeling utterly exhausted and accomplished.

The electricity was out at the finca when we arrived home, so I showered in the dark. Thinking that I was perfectly clean, I stepped out of the shower just as the lights came back on. It was then that looked and realized that I was still completely covered in mud.
Several days later, I can tell you that my feet are still stained with lodo (mud) from Volcán Maderas.



~~~

We spent Monday travelling on various crowded and sweaty vans, ferries, and buses until we reached Granada again. It felt great to arrive home to my Nica house and family! Doña Marta cooked a wonderful dinner and we chatted together about the weekend’s events.

Once again, I wish I had hours of free time to fully remember, process, and articulate the dozens of other experiences floating around in my head and heart that I didn’t have time to narrate here.
But then I wonder: Could I ever really adequately write about all of these stories? Just like trying to take photos while kayaking on the stormy Laguna de Apoyo, will a blog ever really be able to capture these experiences?
And not only the “big” ones like climbing volcanoes and travelling to other cities and islands, but more importantly the everyday ones, like walking out to Valle de Granada every weekday past the old abandoned hospital, stray dogs, rickety horse carts, and street vendors calling out for frescos and rosquillos? These scenes are the ones that create my Nica experience.
Apologies to the reader, but my guess is “no”.


NOTE: I intended to post this entry last Tuesday but got a little stomach bug/flu which put me behind on things for a few days. Don’t worry Mom, I’m feeling pretty much back-to-normal now, thanks to Doña Marta’s endless supply of homemade lemonade, cebada, and avena (different kinds of supposedly very nutritious juices). And thanks also to Pepto Bismol.

So I’m unfortunately a little behind in my blogging (for example, I´ve already met the new gringos in Valle de Granada on Thursday). Work has been pretty exciting this week; a lot of things have been happening lately.

I’ve got a chill weekend in Granada planned, so I’ll be sure and update yall soon!

LOVE TO ALL,
sarah

more piñatas, germans, and the copa mundial

A quick update on our work with Piñatas Alegría:

Last weekend and this week, Shaun and I have been tweaking our system created to divide piñata profits into 3 categories: money to be reinvested for materials, small payments to repay the loan, and money for salaries. We’re calling it out “jar system”, as the idea it that the ganancias from each piñata can be split up among 3 jars—simplicity and sustainability is the goal. We’ve worked out a couple of charts and have begun to implement this system with the piñatas we’ve already sold. So far so good!

On Thursday we talked to the women about the importance of keeping the money from profits within the business. Shaun used an analogy of a bicycle—The wheels are like capital, and the bicycle can only move forward if the wheels are circulating (loan money à materials à products à profits à materials à products… etc.). Although the wheels are continually moving, they must stay firmly on the bicycle. Otherwise, the bicycle, the business, can go nowhere. We have more charlas planned for next week, including basic accounting and marketing.

Another aspect we’ve been working on lately is that of the loan. We created several scenarios with varying loan amounts and payment periods. Although we can see advantages and disadvantages to each, I think we’ve tentatively decided to make one loan of 1,000 córdoba to be paid back in small weekly amounts over 1 year. Shaun, Carrie, and I feel that this approach will give the women plenty of capital, opportunity to expand (which they’ve already showed an interest in doing), and a long enough time period to keep payments low and salaries high enough to reflect the amount of time and effort these three women are sacrificing for the business. I was originally envisioning payment periods of 1-4 months, but I like this better. This new approach really emphasizes the long-term goals of the business, and I’m becoming increasingly excited as I picture the success of Piñatas Alegría one or two years down the road. What an incredible blessing to be a part of this!

~~~

On Tuesday I got a call from a friend from high school, a German foreign exchange student who I knew briefly when he studied in America for a year. Ben has been travelling around Central America for several weeks and somehow found out that I was living in Nica. With no plan or cell phone, he showed up on Calle Real Xalteva (one street north of mine) at around 10:00 in the morning. I showed him around town, drinking frescos and browsing the artisans’ wares at the Parque Central, walking down to the lake via Calle Calzada, and buying mamones in the marketplace. In the afternoon he went to work with me and Piñatas Alegría in Valle de Granada.

Ben and I (photo taken by some of the kids):

A couple more photos from Ben’s camera:

After work we decided that it would be a shame if Ben came to Granada and didn’t get to experience the Laguna de Apoyo, the crater-lagoon just outside of Granada that I visited a couple weeks ago. So we called up Melissa and quickly packed our bags, not knowing if we’d make it back that night or the next morning. We started walking towards the busier streets, alternating scanning for buses and sticking out our thumbs. We just barely caught a bus to Masaya as it sped around the corner and asked the driver to let us know when to hop out for the laguna. As always, there are no bus stops. The driver let us off on the side of the highway near a smaller road that led down into the valley where the laguna is located. From there we started walking downhill and eventually caught a taxi to take us the rest of the way.

Like last time I went to the Laguna de Apoyo, Melissa, Ben, and I were the only people down there. After diving in and swimming out to a small wooden dock, we decided to grab a couple of kayaks and venture out into the calm water. Having left Granada after work around 3:00 pm, it was already beginning to get dark. The sky was also filled with heavy, ominous clouds. Tucked away in a pocket of lush green hills, this lagoon has never known a speedboat or motorboat or jet ski. Scanning the enveloping greenery, we could easily count the number of sparse lights we saw in the hills that completely encircled us. There weren’t even radio towers atop those hills. It was such a beautiful feeling. We paddled out from the shore and I lay back in my kayak and closed my eyes for a few minutes, feeling a slight sprinkling of chilly rain. When I opened my eyes again, the view was completely different than from when I closed them, and yet still the same—dark green, steep, forested hillsides and still water undisturbed in every direction around me, except for Melissa and Ben on their kayaks some distance away. At first I couldn’t help regretting that I didn’t bring my camera, but then I realized what a silly thought that was. It’s not like a picture could really capture it anyway.

The rain really started coming down and the sky had gone completely black when we decided to head in. In the darkness overlooking the laguna, we snuggled into hammocks and rocking chairs on the back porch and chatted with managers of the hut, several Nicaraguans who lived there and ran the place. Not a bad job, right? They were actually looking to hire another member of their staff… I seriously considered it.

After hanging out a while they called us a taxi and we made the winding, uphill trip back to the highway. There we parted ways; Melissa and I caught a bus back to Granada without waiting too long in the rain, and Ben headed off to find a ride in the opposite direction to continue his travels in Masaya.

~~~

Although Nicaraguans are bigger baseball fans than soccer fans (surprising, I know), they still love the Copa Mundial, the World Cup! The past two mornings I’ve woken up to watch the 5:20 am futbol games with a couple friends, which has actually been a lot of fun (though I can’t promise I didn’t doze off a bit at halftime). Although I genuinely enjoy the lack of modernized commercial centers and services here, I have certainly missed the convenience of a Starbucks or even a drive-through McDonald’s coffee these past few mornings. : )

Anyway, I leave this afternoon for a few days to Ometepe, an island in Lago Cicibola (Lake Nicaragua) made up of two volcanoes—Maderas and Concepción. We plan on hiking Volcán Maderas, supposedly an 8-10 hour hike, and then resting on the island’s beaches and exploring its small towns.

Of course, I’ll let yall know how everything goes!

LOVE TO ALL,

sarah

The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork. Day to day pours out speech, and night to night reveals knowledge… Their voice goes out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world”

- Psalm 19:1-4

Mombacho y más

Last Saturday, 2 other interns (Shaun and Melissa) and I decided to climb Volcán Mombacho, the giant volcano which looms over the city of Granada:

First we walked to the marketplace to catch the bus to Volcán Mombacho. We weren’t really sure of where or how to catch the bus, but our questions were soon answered when we ran into men frantically shouting “¡Mombacho, Mombacho! ¡Mombacho, Mombacho!” and pushing people towards a broken-down-looking school bus. Assuming that that this was probably our bus, we allowed ourselves to be herded onto the crowded, dilapidated school bus. For the equivalent of 30¢ we rode the bus outside of town until some of the men indicated that it was our stop. So we hopped off the back and grabbed a mototaxi, a 3-wheeled tuk tuk-style cab. For $1 our driver squished the three of us in the backseat and dropped us off at the base of the natural reserve in which Volcán Mombacho is located.

The hike was a steep 2.5-hour journey— well worth it! At one point we were startled to hear what sounded like a pack of ravenous dogs coming from the trees above us. At further inspection we realized that they were howler monkeys, dozens of them! Half-jokingly, we began imitating their bark-like howls, only to be even more surprised when they howled and yelled back at us, loudly. It was actually a little scary, haha. We conversed with our new primate friends for a while and then decided to press on.

Besides the wildlife (which, in addition to the monkeys, also included lots of huge lizards, tropical birds, and a particular species of salamander that can only be found on Volcán Mombacho), I was also impressed and surprised by all of the flora on the volcano. The forest on either side of the trail was just stuffed with huge ferns, vines, bright white orchids, and other colorful plants that looked like they should be for sale at exorbitant prices in an American flower shop.




When we finally reached the top, we found two more trails, one that was 1.5 hours and another 4-hour hike that led past the three large craters on top of the volcano. We had to get back to Granada by 5:00pm, so we could only take the shorter hike. I can’t imagine we missed out on much, though. Our hike was gorgeous. The clouds cleared when we got to top and we could see Granada, Lago Cicibola (Lake Nicaragua), las isletas, the island Ometepe, Volcán Masaya, Lago de Managua, and I’m pretty sure I saw Dallas, TX and Memphis, TN off in the distance. : )
It was so beautiful and peaceful. The three of us sat alone at the top for a long while without really doing or saying anything; just looking, enjoying, being. I swear— a hammock, a book, and a cup of coffee or hot tea and I would have been beyond content to stay there for days.




On the way back to the original trail we stopped to check out a cave-like fissure in the ground that was emitting hot, humid steam from deep in the volcano. That was pretty cool.

I must admit that I assumed that the hike down would be a snap, that it would feel like nothing compared to the tough trek up. Surprise, surprise; I was mistaken. Shaun, Melissa, and I exchanged muscle pain for joint pain as we zig-zagged down Mombacho. Including a brief stop to check out a coffee plantation halfway down the volcano, the hike down took just about as long as the hike up. At one point we passed a truck carrying people up to the top. As we watched them effortlessly motor past us, admiring the jungle and the views from inside the car, we knew we had made the better choice. There’s no way to climb a mountain without actually climbing the mountain. Am I right?
: )

After we reached the base of the volcano around 4:00 pm, we realized that there was still a short ways to go along the dirt path until we could exit the nature reserve and reach the main road where we could catch the bus or another mototaxi. Having had our fill of walking for the day, we decided to give Nicaraguan hitchhiking a try. I waved and Shaun stuck his thumb out as a truck passed. The driver signaled to us to hop on in and we enjoyed chatting with him and the other passengers until we reached the main highway. Apparently he was working with a tour group that lead people up into the cloud canopy of Mombacho. After we reached the main road, we thanked him, hopped out, and caught another cute little mototaxi. For $1, the mototaxi sped us back to Granada where I enjoyed a much-needed shower.

Our mototaxi:


~~~

After waking up a little stiff and sore the next morning, Melissa and I met to find a bus to the nearby town of Masaya to check out the artisans market that we’d heard about there. We walked through one of, in my opinions, the coolest places in Granada—the marketplace. There we bought some very local nicaragüense snacks. First we bought a bunch of mamones for 5 córdoba (25¢); they’re small fruits that you unwrap from their peeling and suck on the pits. They’re kind of sweet and kind of sour, with a texture similar to what I would imagine an eyeball would have if you were to eat one. Appetizing, no? We also tried frescos for the first time (I’ve since had many more). Frescos are great; they’re like juice boxes except they’re sold in plastic bags. Women sell them all over town and locals are always sucking on them in various flavors—different fruits, cacao, pinolillo, cebada, and a couple other flavors that I’ve tasted but still haven’t figured out what they are yet (again, 5 córdoba).

Me and Melissa with our snacks outside the market:

Bus rides here are unlike bus rides anywhere else. There’s a man who stands at the front and shouts the destination to everyone on the street. He helps people hop on and off the bus, sometimes even while it’s still moving. There don’t appear to be any actual bus stops; one just jumps on or off whenever they want to. A couple times the bus pulled over on the side of the highway and people jumped off and ran into or out of the nearby, unmarked woods. We became friends with the man riding at the front of the bus, William, and he chatted with us in between shouting at passersby and hopping on and off to collect more passengers. He was particularly happy when he found out that we had no plans to go to Costa Rica—I guess most gringos he comes across are travelers or backpackers who plan on touristing there. Although I’m sure Costa Rica is lovely, I agree with William in that I’m glad I chose Nicaragua. I can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.

The Masaya marketplace was pretty cool— a dirty and unorganized mess of hammocks, bags, paintings and jewelry, along with an even dirtier and more unorganized mess of shoes, clothes, random electronics, foods, drinks, and dulces. One thing that I was surprised about was that I didn’t notice any other gringos. Although I don’t usually see gringos in Granada (or at least not in the in the areas of Granada where I work and hang out—the only other American I’ve ever seen in Valle de Granada is my fellow intern, Shaun!), I expected the Masaya market to be more of a tourist destination, the kind of place that you find in a travel guide book. But there really weren’t any others, just Melissa and me. I found out later that there was a nicer, more polished market where tourists are directed. Since Melissa and I weren’t adhering to anything we’d read in a guidebook or on the internet (we just hopped off the bus and started walking until we found a marketplace that we thought was cool), we’d missed the newer market completely. Apparently they have all of the same goods, just at (not surprisingly) higher prices. So it looks like going the dirty and unorganized local route pays off in the end.

~~~

Work in Valle de Granada the first half of this week was slow at best. It rained for a few days, and since people often stay in their homes when it’s raining, it was hard to get all members of the group together. We were supposed to have a man from another community come and teach them how to make more complicated piñatas (Cars, Barney, etc) but in typical nica style, he cancelled last minute.

Tuesday I found out that one of our women who was pregnant, Maria Auxiliadora, had experienced some complications and a near miscarriage and was bedridden. Only 4 months into her pregnancy, she will need to be almost completely bedridden for the remaining 5 months. I was shocked to hear that but extremely relieved to know that she and her baby appear to be OK. Needless to say, I want her to do everything in her power to keep it that way, though I will definitely miss her as part of our team, as I felt closest to her.

Shaun and I purchased some envelopes and made a chart splitting up the money from each differently priced piñata sold into 4 divisions: one to pay back the loan (this envelop doesn’t have anything in it yet as we haven’t made a loan, only donations so far), one to re-invest back into business and purchase materials with, one for Caracolitos, and the final envelope with money to be divided 4 ways (now 3 without Maria Auxiliadora) for salaries for the women. We wanted to create a system that was as simple as possible, something that will be easily sustainable after we leave.

I was excited to give them their profits from the first 4 piñatas already sold— 100 córdoba for materials, 30 for Caracolitos, and 40 córdoba for each of the women as a salary (about $2). I was frustrated to find out, however, that they didn’t feel comfortable holding the money and wanted me to continue holding it and paying them back for any materials they buy. None of the women felt like they had a safe and secure location in which to keep the money, especially since many of them live in a home with multiple families and family members who aren’t necessarily trustworthy. Additionally, I think that they’re just not comfortable with the responsibility of holding their own money or the business’s money, as most of them haven’t had much experience in handling their own finances before. This is a big problem, as you can’t really run a business and simultaneously avoid touching money. Shauna and I have been brainstorming all week on some possible solutions.

~~~

Tuesday the women had run out of materials and so we didn’t do any work and instead just hung out at Dolores’ house in their rocking chairs (everyone has rocking chairs in this country—they are equivalent to the nonexistent A/C). Maybe it was because I had spent the night before hanging out with Melissa and speaking English, or maybe it was because I’d spent my morning reading English books, or maybe it was because we were in their home and they were loosening up and speaking more colloquially, but I just couldn’t seem to express myself that afternoon. Although I know I have a lot of things left to learn in this language, I rarely feel as inept as I felt on Tuesday. It was exasperating. I couldn’t seem to understand 50% of what everyone was saying and every time I tried to join in the conversation, I felt like there was a 10-car pileup in my mind and in the words coming out of my mouth.

Operating almost everyday in a foreign language is a bit of a roller coaster—some days I feel practically fluent, and in other situations I feel as if I’ve barely progressed past Spanish 101. (Not to mention I can feel myself daily becoming less and less articulate and eloquent in English). I’ve concluded that speaking and learning in any language, even your first language, will always be a continuous process, one that I doubt anyone can say they’ve ever truly mastered. There will always be more words, more types of literature, poetry, more ways to express yourself and more ways to learn to listen and more fully understand others. Although some scholars and philosophers find language cumbersome and limiting, I happen to think it’s pretty incredible and beautiful.

~~~

The second half of the week was much more encouraging. The sun was out and Shaun couldn’t make it Wednesday and Thursday so I headed to Valle de Granada by myself. Lisset, Dolores, Magali, and I hung out and talked for a few hours, working on a large Barney piñata. On Wednesday Dolores sent one of the kids off to get us some 2 córdoba helado, a frozen fruit treat sold in baggies, like the frescos. We tore off a corner of the plastic bags with our teeth and sucked on the frozen juice while we worked and chatted, making really great progress.

On Friday we had a new teacher come to Caracolitos to help advance the women’s piñata-making skills, a teacher that the women found on their own. One of the biggest daily problems we face in these piñata-making sessions is the chavalitos, the little kids. It feels like children outnumber adults in this community, and with the combination of a couple of foreigners and what looks like arts and crafts, the kids usually come running to be a part of our piñata-making sessions. A dozen local kids running around can often cause missing materials, broken piñatas, injured children, yelling moms, and other such distractions. Since the women were pretty busy with their new teacher, Shaun and I distracted the kids by playing a few very muddy games of soccer and hopscotch, and exploring the woods behind the mango tree with the children for the whole afternoon. Lets be honest, I wasn’t “distracting the children” so much as I was having a great time myself.

The members of Piñatas Alegría with Carrie (the founder/director of Viva Nicaragua) and a giraffe piñata they made for Carrie’s son’s first birthday. They came up with the design and everything themselves! Even though I protested, they insisted on giving it to Carrie and wouldn’t accept payment for it, as Carrie is the one essentially funding this whole project. They were adamant and told me that they never wanted to be egoístas—selfish.
Left to right: Lisset, Dolores, Carrie, Magali



~~~

In other news: There’s a building on the corner of my street that holds daily aerobics classes; whenever I walk by at night I hear blaring 80’s music blaring. Doña Marta’s daughter, Loren, who lives with me, sometimes attends these classes. Thursday night Melissa and I decided to check it out. So for 20 córdoba (almost $1), we sweated through an hour of step class with no A/C and with a skipping CD of techno versions of American 80’s and 90’s hits in the background. I had a great time and intend on going back a few times a week.

~~~

The other day I woke up with my stomach feeling particularly iffy… not sick sick, just a little more rumbling going on than I was comfortable with. I decided to stay in bed that morning and steer clear of street vendor food for a couple of days to get over my little bug. Amongst the 5 other books that I packed for the summer, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I had accidentally thrown into my luggage C.S. Lewis’ The Magician’s Nephew, the first in his famous The Chronicles of Narnia series. I haven’t read any of the Narnia series in 10 years, and I honestly have no idea how it got in my backpack. Regardless of where it came from, I spent the morning reading it cover to cover, and thoroughly enjoying it. I’ve never read the Harry Potter or Twilight series, but I can’t imagine there are any “children’s” books about magic that are better than the Chronicles of Narnia. I was sorry I didn’t pack the whole series.

I find myself in trouble though; as I’ve now already read 5 of the 6 books I brought (“Crazy Love” by Francis Chan, “Life Together” by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “Nice Girls Don’t Change the World” by Lynne Hybels, “Sex Trafficking: Inside the Business of Modern Day Slavery” by Siddharth Kara, and “Souls in the Hands of a Tender God: Stories of the Search for Home and Healing on the Streets” by Craig Rennebohm). Although these books were all really great (very different, as I’m sure you can tell from the titles), they were far too short.

So I’m off to explore the city this morning in search of some books in English! I know that a couple of local backpackers’ hostels have “give a book, take a book” libraries where I’m sure to find a few English titles. I’m not sure I want to part with any of my books, so maybe I’ll try and convince them to lend a couple out to me, just for the summer. Wish me luck! After that I’m going to watch the US vs. England World Cup game with some people. I wonder who the Nicaraguans will be cheering for?

~~~

Throughout the past week or so, Granada has been celebrating some saint’s day or something by shooting up bombas, loud firecracker-like explosions without color, at random times throughout the night and early morning. They shoot these bombas off from the Iglesia de la Merced, which is about a block away from my house; so they’re quite loud, especially when they wake me up at 4:00 or 5:00 in the morning. I asked Doña Marta what they were celebrating exactly, and she pretty much just told me that there’s not really a reason; Nicaraguans just like to celebrate things with bombas and justify it by attributing the celebration to a particular saint. Truthfully I’m not surprised at all by her response : )
Although its never fun to be woken up in the middle of the night, in these moments I usually smile as the bombas loudly and unabashedly remind me of the words to Phil Wickham’s song “Cannons”:

It’s falling from the clouds, a strange and lovely sound
I hear it in the thunder and the rain
It’s ringing in the skies, like cannons in the night
The music of the universe plays
They’re singing: You are holy! Great and mighty!
The moon and the stars declare who you are!
I’m so unworthy, but still you love me!
Forever my heart will sing of how great you are!

~~~

As always, I can’t help regretting that I’ve left so many stories still untold. More to come soon!


LOVE TO ALL,
sarah

Piñatas Alegría

First I have some sad news. Doña Sandra’s husband passed away last Sunday; he had been suffering from Parkinson’s for a long time. As Doña Sandra is immensely important to the community, Carrie and I decided to cancel all workshops on Monday so that the community could attend the funeral and burial.

Going to work again on Tuesday revealed to me how amazing this woman truly is. Not only was she present and instructing her fellow community members, but her speech was saturated with ambition and hope. She took my hand and walked me through Caracolitas, the cement community center that was apparently built during the revolution. In the tiny dark rooms, dozens of bats swooped down around us as she spoke to me, unflinching. She didn’t see the damage and dilapidation of the dark spaces; instead she saw library rooms so that the young children could learn to appreciate reading, computer labs for the older students to work, a bread oven and food kitchen in the back to serve the children of unemployed parents, a preschool room capable of housing 30 students (twice its current capacity), and of course, a room in which to store and sell our piñatas from. But her vision didn’t stop there. She then walked me around the neighborhood and pointed out where she wanted to clear away land, make desperately needed repairs to the roads, and plant gardens, and tend to a geological sinkhole that has become somewhat of a landfill.

And I’m learning that for Doña Sandra, it’s not just the poverty, the lack of money, the lack of stuff. It’s the destitution of the mind. It’s the lack of knowledge and hope that leads to so many of the community’s other problems: drugs, alcoholism, domestic violence, and decreased rights and respect for women.

I was so impressed and gripped by her every word, as she knows the work required, and yet remains unafraid and unfaltering. She spoke of the importance of the census, and how it would provide invaluable information to the community leaders who rise up after her. There is much to be done. I am just a foreigner and it’s very easy for me to already feel overwhelmed. Doña Sandra lives here and she is full of aspirations and expectations for the betterment of Valle de Granada… Needless to say I am blown away.

Here are a few pictures I took of some of the community kids climbing in a mango tree outside of the community center (Caracolitos is the cement building in the background)

These kids think this gringa is pretty silly...

In other news, another American intern, a grad student named Shaun, is going to start working with me on the microempresa project. This is great because not only will the piñata and belleza businesses need more individualized attention, but I’m also realizing that the census will be a huge project for me. On top of that, Carrie will no longer be working with me in Valle de Granada starting this week, so some help would be great. On another level, I think that for me, I get most enthusiastic about a project and get most ideas generating when I can chat about with others. My friends and family often joke that when I get particularly excited or passionate about something, I talk a million miles an hour. Make fun of me if you will, but I’m convinced that this little quirk of mine allows me to come up with more ideas and get myself more excited and committed to the project at hand. I think that working with a partner on this will help me to get that speech speedometer up, thus allowing me to approach this project with more creativity and confidence.

On Wednesday morning I met two of the women, Dolores and Maria Auxiliadora, at Gonpers, the local office supplies store. There we spend around 300 córdobas (about $15) on dozens of hojas of tissue paper and poster board. After that I followed them to the market (remember from the first post? This marketplace is a zoo! I love it!). There we spent another 100 córdobas ($5) on 3 ceramic pots, 5 pounds of newspaper, a ball of string, and 1 pound of starch. All of these start-up materials are a donation from Viva Nicaragua for the women to practice and perfect their trade. Starting next week, we’d like the business to officially begin and no longer receive these donations but purchase materials with small préstamos, loans.

I started off the shopping trip waiting outside of Gonpers by myself and feeling like a terrified kid on her first day of school— What will they think of me? Will they like me? What if I make a mistake? All of my anxieties were assuaged, however, shortly after seeing Dolores and Maria Auxiliadora. Like in most Latin American cultures, punctuality doesn’t exist in Nicaragua. We usually begin our working about 20-45 minutes after the pre-appointed time. Knowing this, I stressed to them the importance of being on time so that we could use these few weeks we have efficiently. With that in mind, Dolores and Maria Auxiliadora rushed up to Gonpers at exactly 9:00 am giggling and pointing to my watch, “Look! We’re right on time! Look at how punctual we are!” After a good laugh, I felt instantly comfortable with them and we enjoyed getting to know each other for the rest of the shopping trip. Since then, I feel like I’ve really become friends with the women, and I’m most excited about getting to know them and their situations better this summer.

As you may have noticed, things are incredibly inexpensive here. I never spend more than $2-3 any given day, even if I buy water bottles throughout the day and take a taxi at night. I’ve noticed that now, when I see things in stores or restaurants that are more than 10 córdobas and I think, “That’s ridiculous. It’s probably just the price for tourists. I refuse to pay that!”… Then I realize that 10 córdobas is 50¢ and I start to feel a little cheap…

After some piñata-making Thursday afternoon, Carrie brought in a local psychologist to give a talk to the women on self-esteem and the importance of valuing yourself and your work. I was pleased to see that the women seemed to appreciate the charla and participated. This talk was one of Carrie’s efforts to approach “development” holistically, not just monetarily.

Last night I got together with the other Viva Nicaragua interns to meet each other and to say goodbye to Micayla, my Boston hairdresser friend, who left for home this morning : (. Besides Shaun and me, there are 3 other Americans interning with Viva Nicaragua this summer, all of them staying here for varying amounts of time (5 weeks to 10 months). Everyone is working in different fields; 2 pre-med students are working in community clinics and the other is a Gender Studies major working with a women’s center. Although I won’t be seeing any Americans (besides probably Shaun) on a daily basis, it’s nice to know the other gringos working here this summer.

Friday afternoon was a big day for the piñata business. We “registered” each of the women as official members and declared that the donations were over and the business had begun. Shaun and I gave a small presentation on making a business plan with the women and facilitated a discussion to create a mission statement that each of the women can agree on and be excited about. I was thrilled with their participation; we didn’t even need to ask for it! We talked about our goals as a group, which included making high quality piñatas and earning some profit to bettering the community and mastering a useful skill. The women mentioned every single goal that I had in mind, and then some more! We also talked more about our vision as a business, and introduced the idea of splitting up responsibilities amongst the women (accountant, treasurer, etc). Although right now Shaun and I are holding the money and keeping up with the expenses/revenues, we eventually want the women to be responsible for these aspects of the business. I must admit, they have been progressing faster than I had anticipated, and showing much more drive and commitment than I expected.

So as of now,
Official name: Piñatas Alegría
Official members: Dolores, Magali, Liset, and Maria Auxiliadora

!!!!
Exciting, isn’t it??

Below is a pic of me and Regina, one of Liset´s children:

It’s funny; being an Economics major (quite different from a Business major I’m learning), much of this is new to me too! So although I may be continually feeling in over my head, the enthusiasm of Doña Sandra and the women gives me confidence in their success. With some hard work and perseverance on everyone’s part, Piñatas Alegría just might be something sustainable that these women can profit from for a long time to come. (Note: Regardless of the business know-how I wish I had, I still stand firmly on the side of Economics in the never-ending Econ-Business rivalry!)
: )

Since I research in the mornings at a local internet café, I have been blessed this week with not one, not two, but three wonderfully encouraging and gloriously uplifting skype-conversations with the lovely and talented Kristy Cannon, Maggie Rector, and of course, the Dockery family!! SO FANTASTIC. Thanks guys!

On Tuesday I passed the one-week mark of living here in Nica. And thus, like clockwork, beginneth the onset of Montezuma’s revenge. For those of you who aren’t familiar with this little digestive treat promised to the bowels of all foreigners visiting Central America for any length of time, I’ll spare you the details and just introduce you to a new friend of mine:



: )

I hope to do some hiking this weekend on Volcán Mombacho, the volcano that looms over Granada and can be clearly seen on a cloudless day. More to come, of course!

LOVE TO ALL,
sarah

“Rock of Ages, when the day seems long,
From this labor and this heartache I have come.
The skies will wear out, but you remain the same.
Rock of Ages, I praise your name!”

- Rock of Ages (hymn)