Last Thursday, I was planning on writing a day-in-the-life blog post about my day, since it had been fairly ridiculous (and therefore completely normal for a day in Nicaragua). As you may recall from my last blog post, however, Thursday ended with our dog almost dying, and that was just a whole new level of ridiculous and thwarted my blog post plans. But alas, Thursdays seem to be good days around here, so I'm going to try it again: a day in my life.
7:15AM: Wake up (before my alarm?? That's a new one.) Walk out of my bedroom into the office to finish making a worksheet for my adult English class - past tense review, and some new vocabulary.
7:45AM: Fight with the copier (really, copier, two paper jams within 20 copies?) to copy my worksheets for my English class.
8:00AM: Eat deliciously unhealthy French toast that our cook, Elena, made for breakfast. We have a cook Monday through Thursday to allow us to focus on programs during our four busy days of the week. She's awesome and takes fantastic care of us.
8:15AM: Take care of some logistics for our child sponsorship program - we have 5 new children who will be entering the program this month, which is exciting!! Two of them are younger siblings of kids who just graduated from the program, and the other three are new families to our program. I'm very excited that we can expand our reach in Chureca slightly.
9:00AM: Pile into our micro (15 passenger van) to head to Chureca. Recently, instead of driving into the dump, we've been parking near the back entrance and walking in - less wear and tear on the micro, and less stress for whoever is driving.
9:45AM: Once we arrived at the clinic in Chureca, I checked in with Esmo, the Nicaraguan nurse who works with us, about the new kids who will be entering the program. Then Carrie, Maggie, and I walked around to visit families and check in with them. We often have mothers from the program who will walk around with us, and yesterday Laura, the mother of the boy I sponsor, was walking around with us. I really enjoyed getting the chance to talk to her, and learn more about Alfredo and his family. We also had some good visits with families in the program. When we first started walking around Chureca and visiting, I was doubting how effective it was, but as we've started to get to know the mothers better, I'm recognizing the value in it.
11:00AM: Head back to the house. On the way, pass a dog carrying a full zucchini in its mouth - clearly the dog was the winner of the day.
11:40AM: Arrive back at house, eat a quick lunch, and get ready for the afternoon. Elena had made a cake as well! When asked what the cake was for (thinking that there was perhaps a special occasion, since we don't often have cakes), she responded that the cake was for eating. Duh, I don't know why we didn't think of that one ourselves.
12:15PM: Jump back into the micro, drive down the road, and then walk down the dirt road to El Farito, where we help run a feeding program on Tuesdays and Thursdays. It was actually a pretty normal, low-stress Comedor day today - almost all the kids who signed up to help clean actually stayed to clean, no one threw any toothbrushes on the ground, and I didn't have to tell people to be outside the gate tooooo many times. Impressively normal, since Comedor has the potential to be quite a headache if the kids are in crazy moods.
1:15PM: Get handed an "ice cream" (small frozen deliciousness which is more like a popsicle than an ice cream) by one of the cutest five year olds ever. The store right next to El Farito sells these ice creams, which come in small plastic baggies and you bite a hole in the bag to eat the ice cream. The one Brandon gave me was a flavor I had never had before, but it was pretty delicious. My favorite ice cream flavor is passion fruit, but that one hasn't been around in a few days - there are plenty of delicious options though!
1:30PM: Time for kid's English! Christin and I let the kids back inside the gate to Farito, and start passing out the kids' notebooks and pencils. All of a sudden, Farito is REALLY full. We had 54 kids come to our English class!! We're not quite sure where they all came from, and it made for a bit of a crazy class, but I found it pretty fun actually. I also found it exciting that all of them wanted to come to class! By the time class is over at 2:30, my throat is slightly sore from shouting to get 54 kids to be quiet. Also, kids here LOVE to steal pencils, particularly those with erasers. I'm not quite sure what the appeal is, but it's quite annoying.
2:30PM: Clean up from English, take a few minutes to sit and enjoy silence, and walk back to the car to head home with Carrie to prep for the rest of the day. On the drive home, we realized that the gate to the neighborhood, which had been broken off for the past two days, was back in place! Then we had to wait for the guard to open the neighborhood gate since he was taking a bathroom break (outside in the bushes right near the gate)....slightly awkward.
3:00PM: Try to catch up on e-mails and Facebook messages - I seem to get behind on those very easily nowadays, but catch up at least once a week. Sorry to anyone who has been waiting on a response from me...I'm working on it, I promise!
3:40 PM: Head back to Farito to get ready for women's exercise. I don't teach women's exercise, but I help out by playing with kids while their moms attend the class. At yesterday's class, I also helped out by measuring the height of all of the women for a BMI calculation. After that, I played with Duplos with some pretty cute three year olds, chatted with one of my kids English students, and just hung out with the kids. Three of the girls, who are around 6, danced along with the women as they did Zumba to a variety of popular Latin American music - adorable and hilarious at the same time. :)
5:00 PM: Re-arrange the tables in Farito again so that they're ready for my adult English class.
5:30 PM: Sam and I co-teach adult beginner's English. We reviewed past tense, introduced some new vocabulary, and did a worksheet incorporating both of those things. While Sam was teaching the vocabulary, I confiscated a note from some of the teenagers in the class - there seems to be a bit of a love triangle going on at one of the tables of my English class. Also, it was the second note I confiscated this week, and both were passed when I was literally within 3 feet of the person passing it. Solid work, students, solid work.
6:30PM: Walk back down the now-dark dirt road to the car and head home. Eat some dinner, do some dishes, and then head up to the roof to play guitar and hang out with Dayana, one of my friends here who lives in the community. I often will go to advanced English class in the evening to help out, but about 5 PDs went last night so I took the night off. It was nice to just spend the evening relaxing!
10:00PM: Drive Dayana home, and come back to the house and hang out and talk with people for the evening. One of the great things about working with Manna is that all 9 of us PDs live together, and I have really enjoyed getting to know everybody in the group and spending time hanging out with them. During the week we all get busy and don't have a ton of time to just sit around, but it's great to find time to do that on Thursdays or on the weekend.
12:00AM: Realize it's definitely past my bedtime and I'm falling asleep sitting up, and head to bed.
In writing this, I have realized that it's actually impossible to express some of the ridiculousness of life here. It's often not that any one ridiculous things happens, it's just a bunch of small things throughout the day which keep life interesting, enjoyable, and hilarious. Maybe throughout the year I'll get better at explaining them - but for now, I hope this gave you at least a little glimpse into what I do here on a "normal" day. My Tuesdays and Thursdays look pretty similar - Mondays and Wednesdays are a separate beast. I'll do a day-in-the-life for Monday or Wednesday next week, and then between the two, you'll have a good feel of my work week here!
Friday, August 26, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
The dog and the toad
I have always found that God uses unlikely avenues to teach me important lessons, and the past 24 hours have been another reminder of that for me. When I came to Nicaragua, there were many things which I hoped to get a deeper understanding of. Some of these things were concrete and measurable: teaching ability and Spanish fluency, for example. Most of them were not as concrete, but yet more important: compassion, faith, what truly is and isn't important to me, and many more. In my head, these lessons would come in clear, powerful ways, when I was ready to experience them: maybe a particular jarring day in La Chureca, maybe during a conversation with community members, or during scheduled time for reflection. Obviously, that was an unrealistic expectation, since God's timing rarely works nicely into the schedules we create for ourselves. Last night, I got home from a busy day and expected to have a quiet night and get to sleep early. Instead, between 7:15pm and 3:15am, I came to understand both compassion and surrender on a deeper level, courtesy of a large cane toad and a dog named Sydney.
Along with the nine of us PDs who live at the Manna house, we have two more inhabitants - two Rottweilers named Sydney and Cola. Nicaraguans are terrified of Rottweilers, and Sydney and Cola can be viscious if they don't like you, so they provide some extra security at our house as well as keeping us company. They're great dogs, but have a habit of attacking any other creature that moves around the yard. Here's an picture of Sydney with her last kill (in the grass to the right), an unlucky iguana:
And thus began last night's situation: a large cane toad, who had been taking a swim in our pool, hopped out of the pool. Sydney jumped on the toad and bit/licked it, but instead of killing the toad and being proud of herself, she instead began foaming at the mouth a lot, while the toad hopped away to safety (we think). Cane toads, which is our best bet of what she got her teeth on, are incredibly poisonous toads and are capable of killing dogs and humans with their venom. We called a Nicaraguan vet whose number we had, and told him about the situation. There was a shot which we could get for Sydney, he told us, but it was almost certain she was going to die even with the shot. We could also try feeding her charcoal to absorb some poison and potentially induce vomiting. However, despite the low likelihood of her surviving, he was willing to meet us to administer the shot. Our van had broken earlier in the day, but with the help of some friends, we got Sydney to meet the vet and get the shot. On the ride there, she vomited all over Jesse (one of my fellow PDs) and the back of the pick-up - disgusting, but it may have saved her life.
After Syd got home from the vet, she seemed to be doing okay at first. I really thought that we were in the clear, until I walked outside about half an hour later and heard her panting frantically and gasping for breath. She was barely able to walk, and had almost no control of her back legs. For a dog who tends to snap at people when they try and pet her head, she was incredibly calm and too weak to argue with us about anything. The hallucinatory effects of the poison were evident, and she seemed intent on going into the pool which she is normally not interested in at all. We got the contact information for another vet, an American who has been down here for around 8 months teaching at a university and doing mission work. He graciously agreed to drive 20 minutes to come over and check on Syd, even though it was around 11pm by this point. He did a physical exam on her, gave her another injection, and explained more to us about what was happening to her. He left yet another dose of the "antidote" with us to administer later in the night, and explained to us very honestly that we should prepare ourselves for her death. She was in grave condition, as he explained, and very close to death when he saw her. He also told us, however, that he hadn't lost a patient yet in Nicaragua, and that there was definitely hope.
We spent the next 4 hours sitting with Sydney as she rested. She was so, so weak, that she wouldn't even open her eyes or lift her head when we touched her face. At multiple points, she seemed to stop breathing for 10 seconds and I truly thought she had died. At around 1am, Christin and Maggie went to make muffins, and I stayed outside with Sydney. I sat next to her with my hand on her side so I could feel her breathing and let her know, if she was conscious enough to notice, that someone was with her. At some point, I came to accept that we had done everything that we could do for her. It was out of our hands, and literally all I could do was sit there and lay my hand on her side and pray. As I stared at the stars and prayed for her to keep breathing, I think I learned something deeper about what surrender means. I think there's often a negative connotation to the word surrender, and people associate it with giving up. The truth is that it's not giving up - it's handing the situation over to God and recognizing that we're not the ones who can solve the problem. There was literally nothing I could do except sit and pray, a fact which would often stress me out. But I wasn't stressed out - I was at peace with the fact that I had played my part, and that I couldn't play a part bigger than me. As I sat there alone and prayed with Sydney, one part of the Passion of Jesus kept repeating in my head. "Stay here and keep watch with me." That was literally all I could do for Sydney last night - watch and pray.
As I go about my daily life here, I see situations which I need to approach with an attitude of surrender. The stories I hear and the poverty I see are not always things that I can fix. I can play my part, whether that be an English class or a conversation or some oatmeal and milk. But once my part has been played, all I can do is watch and pray. If I approach this year thinking that I can fix every poverty, physically and spiritually, that I see, I will end up frustrated, discouraged, and helping no one. By recognizing where my part in the bigger picture ends, I am able to focus on nothing more than doing my part to the best of my ability, and accepting that many situations are ultimately out of my control.
Surrendering, recognizing that a situation is beyond me, doesn't mean that I walk away - in fact, I think it means the exact opposite. So what does "stay here and keep watch with me" mean in my everyday life here? Compassion. The Latin root of the word compassion means "to suffer with". With Sydney last night, I was able to be more compassionate once I was able to surrender - instead of focusing on all the things which I wanted to be able to fix, I was able to focus solely on thinking about how she was feeling and being with her. That's all I could do, and maybe that's just what she needed me to do. In my interactions with community members, or with friends and housemates, am I able to do this? When I refuse to surrender, I spend my time trying to fix a problem which is out of my control, instead of letting go and making myself free to focus on walking through the difficult situation with the person. When I recognize that I can't feed every child in Chureca, I can shift my focus to sharing love with the people I do get the chance to interact with. When I recognize that I can't give a person a job or money to provide for her family, I can shift my focus to learning more about her and perhaps guiding her towards avenues that can help her or employ her. I am a small piece in a big puzzle, and my job is to be the best small piece I can be, not to try and become a bigger piece - in other words, to have the humility to surrender.
Sydney made it through the night, much to the surprise of many of us and the vet. As today went on, she started to regain her strength - and her personality - and is now interested in food and water again. She is going to be fine, and has hopefully learned her lesson about biting toads. It has been a roller-coaster for all of us, and we're all a little sleep deprived, but all is well. Sydney is healthy, and for that I am incredibly thankful. I got a new glimpse into what it means to be compassionate and to truly surrender, and I think that both these lessons will be important for me throughout the year.
Who knew I could learn this much from a dog who decided to bite a toad?
Along with the nine of us PDs who live at the Manna house, we have two more inhabitants - two Rottweilers named Sydney and Cola. Nicaraguans are terrified of Rottweilers, and Sydney and Cola can be viscious if they don't like you, so they provide some extra security at our house as well as keeping us company. They're great dogs, but have a habit of attacking any other creature that moves around the yard. Here's an picture of Sydney with her last kill (in the grass to the right), an unlucky iguana:
And thus began last night's situation: a large cane toad, who had been taking a swim in our pool, hopped out of the pool. Sydney jumped on the toad and bit/licked it, but instead of killing the toad and being proud of herself, she instead began foaming at the mouth a lot, while the toad hopped away to safety (we think). Cane toads, which is our best bet of what she got her teeth on, are incredibly poisonous toads and are capable of killing dogs and humans with their venom. We called a Nicaraguan vet whose number we had, and told him about the situation. There was a shot which we could get for Sydney, he told us, but it was almost certain she was going to die even with the shot. We could also try feeding her charcoal to absorb some poison and potentially induce vomiting. However, despite the low likelihood of her surviving, he was willing to meet us to administer the shot. Our van had broken earlier in the day, but with the help of some friends, we got Sydney to meet the vet and get the shot. On the ride there, she vomited all over Jesse (one of my fellow PDs) and the back of the pick-up - disgusting, but it may have saved her life.
After Syd got home from the vet, she seemed to be doing okay at first. I really thought that we were in the clear, until I walked outside about half an hour later and heard her panting frantically and gasping for breath. She was barely able to walk, and had almost no control of her back legs. For a dog who tends to snap at people when they try and pet her head, she was incredibly calm and too weak to argue with us about anything. The hallucinatory effects of the poison were evident, and she seemed intent on going into the pool which she is normally not interested in at all. We got the contact information for another vet, an American who has been down here for around 8 months teaching at a university and doing mission work. He graciously agreed to drive 20 minutes to come over and check on Syd, even though it was around 11pm by this point. He did a physical exam on her, gave her another injection, and explained more to us about what was happening to her. He left yet another dose of the "antidote" with us to administer later in the night, and explained to us very honestly that we should prepare ourselves for her death. She was in grave condition, as he explained, and very close to death when he saw her. He also told us, however, that he hadn't lost a patient yet in Nicaragua, and that there was definitely hope.
We spent the next 4 hours sitting with Sydney as she rested. She was so, so weak, that she wouldn't even open her eyes or lift her head when we touched her face. At multiple points, she seemed to stop breathing for 10 seconds and I truly thought she had died. At around 1am, Christin and Maggie went to make muffins, and I stayed outside with Sydney. I sat next to her with my hand on her side so I could feel her breathing and let her know, if she was conscious enough to notice, that someone was with her. At some point, I came to accept that we had done everything that we could do for her. It was out of our hands, and literally all I could do was sit there and lay my hand on her side and pray. As I stared at the stars and prayed for her to keep breathing, I think I learned something deeper about what surrender means. I think there's often a negative connotation to the word surrender, and people associate it with giving up. The truth is that it's not giving up - it's handing the situation over to God and recognizing that we're not the ones who can solve the problem. There was literally nothing I could do except sit and pray, a fact which would often stress me out. But I wasn't stressed out - I was at peace with the fact that I had played my part, and that I couldn't play a part bigger than me. As I sat there alone and prayed with Sydney, one part of the Passion of Jesus kept repeating in my head. "Stay here and keep watch with me." That was literally all I could do for Sydney last night - watch and pray.
As I go about my daily life here, I see situations which I need to approach with an attitude of surrender. The stories I hear and the poverty I see are not always things that I can fix. I can play my part, whether that be an English class or a conversation or some oatmeal and milk. But once my part has been played, all I can do is watch and pray. If I approach this year thinking that I can fix every poverty, physically and spiritually, that I see, I will end up frustrated, discouraged, and helping no one. By recognizing where my part in the bigger picture ends, I am able to focus on nothing more than doing my part to the best of my ability, and accepting that many situations are ultimately out of my control.
Surrendering, recognizing that a situation is beyond me, doesn't mean that I walk away - in fact, I think it means the exact opposite. So what does "stay here and keep watch with me" mean in my everyday life here? Compassion. The Latin root of the word compassion means "to suffer with". With Sydney last night, I was able to be more compassionate once I was able to surrender - instead of focusing on all the things which I wanted to be able to fix, I was able to focus solely on thinking about how she was feeling and being with her. That's all I could do, and maybe that's just what she needed me to do. In my interactions with community members, or with friends and housemates, am I able to do this? When I refuse to surrender, I spend my time trying to fix a problem which is out of my control, instead of letting go and making myself free to focus on walking through the difficult situation with the person. When I recognize that I can't feed every child in Chureca, I can shift my focus to sharing love with the people I do get the chance to interact with. When I recognize that I can't give a person a job or money to provide for her family, I can shift my focus to learning more about her and perhaps guiding her towards avenues that can help her or employ her. I am a small piece in a big puzzle, and my job is to be the best small piece I can be, not to try and become a bigger piece - in other words, to have the humility to surrender.
Sydney made it through the night, much to the surprise of many of us and the vet. As today went on, she started to regain her strength - and her personality - and is now interested in food and water again. She is going to be fine, and has hopefully learned her lesson about biting toads. It has been a roller-coaster for all of us, and we're all a little sleep deprived, but all is well. Sydney is healthy, and for that I am incredibly thankful. I got a new glimpse into what it means to be compassionate and to truly surrender, and I think that both these lessons will be important for me throughout the year.
Who knew I could learn this much from a dog who decided to bite a toad?
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Cedro Galan and Chiquilistagua
Time seems to fly during the week here, and all of a sudden I realize it's been a week and I haven't written a blog post. It's not for a lack of topics to discuss - I always have new things on my mind to share - but my weeks are pretty busy! I've been trying to focus recently on time management and priorities, and determining what I should be doing with my time. Blogging and communication is definitely on the list, so hopefully I'll get better at having a routine of updating twice a week!
As it stands, I still owe you all an introduction to the other communities we work with, other than La Chureca. There are two others - Cedro Galan and Chiquilistagua (pronounciation: chee-kee-lee-staug-wah), which are neighboring communities a few kilometers from our house. I work much more in Cedro than in Chiqui, since more of Manna's programs in general are there. So, this will be a double-update: an introduction to the communities, and an introduction to the programs which I'm working on this year!
When Manna Project first started in Nicaragua (2004), we had a partnership with some Christian missionaries who had been down here for a few years before we arrived. Halle and Kathy August came down to Nicaragua about 9 years ago, and began working primarily in Chiquilistagua with some work in Cedro Galan. They now own and run a fantastic sports center in Chiquilistagua called El Salero (the land), which gives kids a safe place to hang out and play sports, read books, and use a computer. They also run a preschool in Cedro Galan, and own a small school building there which is named El Farito (the lighthouse). Although we run our programs mostly independently from the August family, they graciously allow us to use both of these spaces for our programs.
Here's a picture of El Farito from our hello/goodbye party we held before the old Program Directors left:
I have been spending a lot of time in Cedro, between programs and just hanging out with families who I've gotten close with. It's a wonderful community with wonderful people. Most people live in small concrete houses or sometimes tin houses, depending on how well off they are. Most families are able to get by and have the basic needs, but there's definitely still a lot of poverty and a lack of opportunities for advancement in a lot of cases. Manna has provided some microfinancing options, and our loans have helped jumpstart some businesses in the community, which has been really cool to see! Some examples are a lady named Laura who runs a small food shop out of her home, and a man named Henry who used the loan to build a structure around an oven to allow him to make and sell bread. It is very rewarding to see how a simple loan and some business training and advice can allow these people to provide for their families!
The programs we run in Cedro include English classes for kids and adults, math and literacy classes for kids, a kid's art class, a feeding program and a women's exercise class. Of these, I am responsible for coordinating the feeding program (not cooking - moms from the community take care of that!), co-teaching kid's English, and co-teaching adult beginner's English. Kid's English has definitely been my most challenging program so far. We usually have between 30 and 45 kids between the ages of 5 and 15 in the class, so it's a lot of kids. I've been told that that would be hard to handle even with an education/teaching background, which makes me feel a bit better about my inability to adequately control the class at times! The kids are great, though, and it is definitely growing on me. We're currently working on learning professions...and I think the kids are learning something. :) My adult English class has truly been a joy to plan and teach. We usually have around 20 students, and they are eager to learn. The variety of levels within the class is sometimes hard to plan for, but we've made it work so far and I think are catering to the needs of the students to the best of our ability. It's a very rewarding class and I've loved getting to know my students so far.
In Chiquilistagua, I help two of my fellow PDs with their teen English class. It's two half hour classes with around 15-20 students in each class, between the ages of 12 and 16. The kids are great, in their own way - but they're middle schoolers, and so they can be difficult. I must say that my youth ministry background from the last two years has come in handy here more than once! The kids in this English class have really grown on me, and even when they're troublemakers, they're definitely winning my heart and I'm excited to keep building relationships with them throughout the year. Other programs we run in Chiqui include a younger kids' English class, computer class, and a girl's soccer program. I don't spend much time in Chiqui other than for classes, but I hope to try and get a bit more involved in the community by going to one of the youth nights which the Augusts host for the community. The last one got canceled due to lack of power (welcome to Nicaragua, where the power goes out randomly...), but hopefully I'll be able to go to one soon.
Other than programs, I am starting to get settled into a routine. All of the old PDs have left, I have moved into my room, gotten more comfortable driving the car with crazy Nicaraguan traffic lack-of-enforced-laws, and am getting used to what life looks like here. In some ways, it has been very nice to feel settled and at home in the house and in the community. In other ways, a bit of homesickness has set in as life has slowed down a bit here. Prior to now, there was enough action at all times to stop me from thinking too much about home, and so I didn't really miss it. The past few days have been a bit rough for whatever reason, and I find myself really missing the in-person support of my community in Houston. While this has been a hindrance, it has also pushed me to start forming deeper relationships here and creating an equally strong support network here. I know that this takes time (and that God is teaching me patience even if I don't want Him to right now...:-)), but even just making progress on it is helping put me in a good mood and feel excited about being here.
Thank you for all of your support, whether it be financial, emotional, or spiritual - I appreciate it more than you know. If there are any specific topics you'd like to hear more about in the blog, just leave a comment and let me know!
As it stands, I still owe you all an introduction to the other communities we work with, other than La Chureca. There are two others - Cedro Galan and Chiquilistagua (pronounciation: chee-kee-lee-staug-wah), which are neighboring communities a few kilometers from our house. I work much more in Cedro than in Chiqui, since more of Manna's programs in general are there. So, this will be a double-update: an introduction to the communities, and an introduction to the programs which I'm working on this year!
When Manna Project first started in Nicaragua (2004), we had a partnership with some Christian missionaries who had been down here for a few years before we arrived. Halle and Kathy August came down to Nicaragua about 9 years ago, and began working primarily in Chiquilistagua with some work in Cedro Galan. They now own and run a fantastic sports center in Chiquilistagua called El Salero (the land), which gives kids a safe place to hang out and play sports, read books, and use a computer. They also run a preschool in Cedro Galan, and own a small school building there which is named El Farito (the lighthouse). Although we run our programs mostly independently from the August family, they graciously allow us to use both of these spaces for our programs.
Here's a picture of El Farito from our hello/goodbye party we held before the old Program Directors left:
I have been spending a lot of time in Cedro, between programs and just hanging out with families who I've gotten close with. It's a wonderful community with wonderful people. Most people live in small concrete houses or sometimes tin houses, depending on how well off they are. Most families are able to get by and have the basic needs, but there's definitely still a lot of poverty and a lack of opportunities for advancement in a lot of cases. Manna has provided some microfinancing options, and our loans have helped jumpstart some businesses in the community, which has been really cool to see! Some examples are a lady named Laura who runs a small food shop out of her home, and a man named Henry who used the loan to build a structure around an oven to allow him to make and sell bread. It is very rewarding to see how a simple loan and some business training and advice can allow these people to provide for their families!
The programs we run in Cedro include English classes for kids and adults, math and literacy classes for kids, a kid's art class, a feeding program and a women's exercise class. Of these, I am responsible for coordinating the feeding program (not cooking - moms from the community take care of that!), co-teaching kid's English, and co-teaching adult beginner's English. Kid's English has definitely been my most challenging program so far. We usually have between 30 and 45 kids between the ages of 5 and 15 in the class, so it's a lot of kids. I've been told that that would be hard to handle even with an education/teaching background, which makes me feel a bit better about my inability to adequately control the class at times! The kids are great, though, and it is definitely growing on me. We're currently working on learning professions...and I think the kids are learning something. :) My adult English class has truly been a joy to plan and teach. We usually have around 20 students, and they are eager to learn. The variety of levels within the class is sometimes hard to plan for, but we've made it work so far and I think are catering to the needs of the students to the best of our ability. It's a very rewarding class and I've loved getting to know my students so far.
In Chiquilistagua, I help two of my fellow PDs with their teen English class. It's two half hour classes with around 15-20 students in each class, between the ages of 12 and 16. The kids are great, in their own way - but they're middle schoolers, and so they can be difficult. I must say that my youth ministry background from the last two years has come in handy here more than once! The kids in this English class have really grown on me, and even when they're troublemakers, they're definitely winning my heart and I'm excited to keep building relationships with them throughout the year. Other programs we run in Chiqui include a younger kids' English class, computer class, and a girl's soccer program. I don't spend much time in Chiqui other than for classes, but I hope to try and get a bit more involved in the community by going to one of the youth nights which the Augusts host for the community. The last one got canceled due to lack of power (welcome to Nicaragua, where the power goes out randomly...), but hopefully I'll be able to go to one soon.
Other than programs, I am starting to get settled into a routine. All of the old PDs have left, I have moved into my room, gotten more comfortable driving the car with crazy Nicaraguan traffic lack-of-enforced-laws, and am getting used to what life looks like here. In some ways, it has been very nice to feel settled and at home in the house and in the community. In other ways, a bit of homesickness has set in as life has slowed down a bit here. Prior to now, there was enough action at all times to stop me from thinking too much about home, and so I didn't really miss it. The past few days have been a bit rough for whatever reason, and I find myself really missing the in-person support of my community in Houston. While this has been a hindrance, it has also pushed me to start forming deeper relationships here and creating an equally strong support network here. I know that this takes time (and that God is teaching me patience even if I don't want Him to right now...:-)), but even just making progress on it is helping put me in a good mood and feel excited about being here.
Thank you for all of your support, whether it be financial, emotional, or spiritual - I appreciate it more than you know. If there are any specific topics you'd like to hear more about in the blog, just leave a comment and let me know!
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
What it means to make a difference: reflections after one month
Today marks the one month anniversary of my arrival in Nicaragua, and it's hard to believe that it's only been a month. I have done a two week homestay, two weeks of Spanish classes, shadowed last year's PDs for a week and a half, and started teaching classes with my fellow PDs. Somewhere in between all of that, I've met a lot of people, tried to remember the names of the 40 kids in my kids English class, ate a whole lot of rice and beans, adjusted to living with 8 other people, and started forming some amazing friendships with the communities we work with. It has definitely been a busy month, but an amazing one as well.
I could tell you story after story of the things I've seen and experienced in the last month. Some of it is just hilariously funny, and other parts are heartbreaking. At orientation in Miami, we were told that this year we'd experience the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, and that's definitely already proving true. I was talking to a friend from home last night and telling her about La Chureca and some of my other experiences here, and she asked me if I felt like I was making a difference here yet. That question isn't as simple as it may sound, but I think it's a very important question to be conscious of throughout my year here.
It's difficult to answer the question because I think people have very different views of what it means to make a difference as a year-long volunteer in a developing country. You can look at the situation a few different ways, and come up with a very different answer for each viewpoint. I'll give you mine; obviously, feel free to disagree/challenge me on it as a comment/e-mail/whatever - I'd be happy to discuss it more.
So here's the thing - you learn quickly when you go places like Chureca that the situation is way beyond anything which we can hope to "fix". The problems in Chureca are way larger and more complicated than kids under the age of five who need food, milk, and vitamins every month, and mothers who need chances to learn more about how to take care of their kids. What we do in Chureca barely scratches the surface, and yet I do truly believe that we're impacting families in more ways than just giving them food. Lots of short-term groups come through Chureca, and most arrive in a big bus with a lot of cameras out the window. One that we saw the other day had policemen escorting them, and they walked around the neighborhood and took a ton of pictures of people, houses, and trash piles. The people who live in Chureca are exploited, more or less. I can't imagine what it's like to have people constantly taking pictures of your life as if it's a museum exhibit. Manna has a strict policy about cameras, or lack thereof in Chureca - we want to see Chureca and its inhabitants eye-to-eye, not through a lens. By forming relationships with people and learning more about their every day life, I believe we are helping to restore dignity to people who, often by no fault of their own, happen to live in a trash dump.
The other two communities we work with, Cedro Galan and Chiquilistagua (who I still owe you an intro blog post to - it'll happen in the next week, I promise!), are much less poor that Chureca. It's funny how standards change - they are both still pretty poor communties, but not in comparison to Chureca. In Cedro and Chiqui our focus is different - we don't focus on feeding, and instead focus on education and advancement opportunities. Personally, I'm teaching a kids English class, an adult English class, a computer class, working on literacy and math with a few kids, and helping out with a couple other things. I think our most important work in Cedro Galan is also in our relationships. It is definitely useful for the community members to learn English, for the sake of future employment opportunities, and our other programs offer useful services as well. That said, if the middle school boys only learn one thing from our English class, I hope it's how to treat each other and women with respect instead of treating them how they see many of their fathers treat them. I think encouraging people to strive for more and recognize the opportunities which exist for them is just as important as whether my English classes learned professions or past tense today. It's less measurable, for sure - I can't give a quiz to figure out what the community members have gained - but that doesn't mean it's less important.
So, am I making a difference here yet? I truly believe I am, but I think it's being made in small moments - in a conversation with a 14 year old kid about what's really going on in their lives (yep...I'm obviously still a youth minister at heart :-)), taking the time to learn people's names and get to know them, and in truly walking with the people that I have been given the privilege to serve.
I could tell you story after story of the things I've seen and experienced in the last month. Some of it is just hilariously funny, and other parts are heartbreaking. At orientation in Miami, we were told that this year we'd experience the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, and that's definitely already proving true. I was talking to a friend from home last night and telling her about La Chureca and some of my other experiences here, and she asked me if I felt like I was making a difference here yet. That question isn't as simple as it may sound, but I think it's a very important question to be conscious of throughout my year here.
It's difficult to answer the question because I think people have very different views of what it means to make a difference as a year-long volunteer in a developing country. You can look at the situation a few different ways, and come up with a very different answer for each viewpoint. I'll give you mine; obviously, feel free to disagree/challenge me on it as a comment/e-mail/whatever - I'd be happy to discuss it more.
So here's the thing - you learn quickly when you go places like Chureca that the situation is way beyond anything which we can hope to "fix". The problems in Chureca are way larger and more complicated than kids under the age of five who need food, milk, and vitamins every month, and mothers who need chances to learn more about how to take care of their kids. What we do in Chureca barely scratches the surface, and yet I do truly believe that we're impacting families in more ways than just giving them food. Lots of short-term groups come through Chureca, and most arrive in a big bus with a lot of cameras out the window. One that we saw the other day had policemen escorting them, and they walked around the neighborhood and took a ton of pictures of people, houses, and trash piles. The people who live in Chureca are exploited, more or less. I can't imagine what it's like to have people constantly taking pictures of your life as if it's a museum exhibit. Manna has a strict policy about cameras, or lack thereof in Chureca - we want to see Chureca and its inhabitants eye-to-eye, not through a lens. By forming relationships with people and learning more about their every day life, I believe we are helping to restore dignity to people who, often by no fault of their own, happen to live in a trash dump.
The other two communities we work with, Cedro Galan and Chiquilistagua (who I still owe you an intro blog post to - it'll happen in the next week, I promise!), are much less poor that Chureca. It's funny how standards change - they are both still pretty poor communties, but not in comparison to Chureca. In Cedro and Chiqui our focus is different - we don't focus on feeding, and instead focus on education and advancement opportunities. Personally, I'm teaching a kids English class, an adult English class, a computer class, working on literacy and math with a few kids, and helping out with a couple other things. I think our most important work in Cedro Galan is also in our relationships. It is definitely useful for the community members to learn English, for the sake of future employment opportunities, and our other programs offer useful services as well. That said, if the middle school boys only learn one thing from our English class, I hope it's how to treat each other and women with respect instead of treating them how they see many of their fathers treat them. I think encouraging people to strive for more and recognize the opportunities which exist for them is just as important as whether my English classes learned professions or past tense today. It's less measurable, for sure - I can't give a quiz to figure out what the community members have gained - but that doesn't mean it's less important.
So, am I making a difference here yet? I truly believe I am, but I think it's being made in small moments - in a conversation with a 14 year old kid about what's really going on in their lives (yep...I'm obviously still a youth minister at heart :-)), taking the time to learn people's names and get to know them, and in truly walking with the people that I have been given the privilege to serve.
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