Merry Christmas - It's 85 and Sunny!

So Christmas is now less than a week away. Only by the advent wreath at church could I verify this for you. Sure, there are some shops pushing Christmas supplies, and I'll hear the occasional reggae Christmas tune. But Christmas just isn't Christmas without snow and at least one good "O, Come, O, Come, Emmanuel." :) I've experienced Christmas in a tropical climate before, when I was in Ecuador for Christmas 2004. While snow and Christmas hymns were lacking there, as well, I had the anticipation of at least seeing my parents and one of my sisters over the holiday season. This year, no such luck. Fortunately, the wonders of technology will make "face-to-face" communication feasible.


There was a time when what was important to me at Christmas were the presents. At some point in our lives, most of us experience the desire to get the latest electronic gadget or some necessary (or unnecessary) item that we don't quite feel like purchasing ourselves. But I can remember very specifically the sentiment and very vaguely the details of when that desire got the best of me, and how my attitude toward Christmas has changed.

It was Christmas sometime in the late '90s. I must have been about 13 or 14 years old. I was wanting and expecting some sort of video game system to upgrade from my N64 that was probably all of two or three years old, I think. At that time, as family, we were still opening presents on Christmas morning, rather than on Christmas Eve as we do now. After gifts, we would have been headed to celebrate Christmas with my mom's side of the family.

Whatever it was that I was expecting, I didn't get it and I was not a happy camper. My family will gently remind me that in my teen years, I wasn't always the most pleasant person to be around anyway, but this was pure pissed-offedness. Unfounded. But that was my reality. I'm pretty sure I didn't thank my parents for the presents I did get (and if I did, it was a grumbly thank you), and I spent most of the rest of Christmas day upset over the thing I didn't get.

I'm not going to lie and say I had an epiphany the next day about "the real meaning of Christmas," but I did feel pretty horrible about how I acted. It almost makes me shudder thinking about it now, how wrapped up I had become in the what at Christmas and how little import I was giving to the who and the why.

Since then, and especially over the past several years, I've grown tired of the capitalism of Christmas. I've scoffed at the "Christmas creep"--the way Christmas keeps creeping closer and closer to starting in June. I've enjoyed more and more all the Christmas hymns that are sung only one month a year. I've gotten more and more drawn to just sitting and being with my family and not anticipating the presents I will or will not get. I've gotten to a place where the who and the why really matter more than the what.

That's the real reason why this Christmas will be different from any other I've experienced before. I won't be at home to help pick out the Christmas tree with my dad and sister Sara. I won't be able to help decorate the tree with my mom. I won't be at home to decorate Christmas cookies (or inundate them with sprinkles) with my niece and nephew. I won't be able to compete with my sister Katie to see who does a better rendition of Stephen Colbert's version of The King of Glory. I won't be able to demolish my hip trying to surf down an icy hill in a plastic sled with my cousins. I won't be playing a good game of Garbage with my aunts and uncles.

Point is, Christmas is much more than the gift exchange. I could probably name, I don't know, maybe a dozen gifts I've gotten for Christmas in my lifetime. And I could probably name even fewer of the gifts I've given to other people, as bad as that is. I'm not pretending to be the first to give the message that Christmas isn't about the gifts. But it's not just that it's not about the gifts. It's about being proactive about the flipside, what it is about. It's about spending time with people you care about, if you're fortunate enough to have them in your life. I'ts about recognizing the miracle of God becoming human in order to begin a process that would end in what we celebrate as Easter. It's about the love that should permeate our everyday existence and would go a long way to solving problems if we would cultivate it.

I know it's probably too late to encourage any alteration to Christmas shopping habits for this year, but whatever you've gotten for other people or whatever you get from other people, try to make sure it's more than just a gift exchange. Take some time to be with them and listen to them and share with them. Take some time to appreciate the words of the Christmas hymns you might otherwise sing mindlessly at church. And if it's not too much trouble, find someone you like to spend time with and build a snowman for me.

"Hey, look - a white guy...

...I think I'll ask him for money!"

I imagine something like that passes through the brains of the men, women and children that take advantage of my passing by to ask for anywhere between "un peso" and "fai dolla'"--between five cents and five dollars, sometimes more.

When the kids do it, they typically go straight to the point - Not "Disculpe (Excuse me...)" or "Buenos Días (Good morning...); Just "Gib me wahn dolla'!" Most likely the only English they know, and it's probably not getting them as far as they thought it might. Kinda rude, right? Well, Brother David, one of the Bishops down here, gave a homily on this topic a while back, and he talked about how he tries to engage people in conversation when they ask him for financial goods. I've taken after this practice and usually respond to the kids by saying, "Buenas tardes, ¿Cómo estás?" Then we talk briefly about how he or she shouldn't demand money from strangers, and then I'm on my way.

Now, there are some adults that use this tactic to get money out of me as well. There are people that beg everyone for money and there are people that will just beg me for money. If you're a begger, you're a begger. I understand that you ask for money, both from me and from anyone else. But if you just walked by dozens of other people or dozens of people walked by you without you saying anything, and now you're gonna stick your hand out to me...? It's both frustrating and humbling at the same time. Frustrating because when they just ask me for money, it's because I'm white, and it shows the view people have of gringos, always having money in surplus. It's also humbling because as "simply" as I'm living down here and as much as I'd like to be able to honestly say that I have little more than they have, I actually have a lot more than most people have. I try not to use the words "No tengo" (I don't have any) in my response, because that's often bs. I have money for food and such at home, even when I'm not carrying money in my pockets, so saying I don't have money isn't really true. So I usually say that I can't and that I'm sorry and that I hope they have a nice day. Which is pretty cold, but I could spend hours of each day talking with all the people that ask for money.

Speaking of all-day conversations, there have been times where the conversation has gotten to be pretty long. There are some people who do indeed take the time to greet me with a "Buenas, amigo" (Hello, friend) and shake my hand. After some small talk about where I'm from and what I do, their financial troubles come up. People explain to me that they were just in the hospital and have to pay the bill and have no money (like this one guy who has shown me the same cut on his leg on four separate occasions over the first few months of being here). Or that they're not from Port and their mother is sick in their village, and this person has no money to get back home to their sick mom. Or some people, like my "good friend" Jonas Benedicto, tell me about how they used to live in the States and have a lot of gringo friends and just need a little money to get back on their feet in order to finish school. Jonas likes to hug, too. But out of concern for my personal safety, handshakes are more appropriate.

Then there's the incredibly awkward situation where it's someone closer to me asking for me to lend them money. My host brothers in Granada, a teacher at Escuela Maureen, one of our neighbors...all have asked me outright if I could lend them considerable amounts of money. This affects my interactions with other people who may or may not be asking for money. Some people have "confided" in me about how much they're struggling at home, how they are scrambling to get food for their family or are concerned about making it until the next paycheck. This is where all the begging affects me. Without asking me straight up if I can lend them money, I get the sense that they're hoping I'll volunteer to support them in some way. And I'm sure some people aren't necessarily looking for me to help them and just consider it a topic of conversation between friends, but the reality is that my experience has conditioned me to think they're asking for money.

Usually people are pretty understanding when I give them the explanation that I'm not allowed to be exchanging money with people. I explain how I'm on a fixed budget and that I can neither earn extra money (i.e. by giving English classes, which would produce a haul) nor can I give money away. I've given this explanation to a number of people that have stopped me in the street, and they express their appreciation for me taking the time to listen to them and to explain to them just why I am not going to give them money. Actually, when those conversations happen, the people walk away in a pretty chipper mood.

I try to be as patient with these interactions as I can. It can be more difficult when I have somewhere to be, but I at least try to take a minute to acknowledge their existence. On rare occasions, people just want to talk to the gringo and say Hi, and those conversations go much more smoothly. I guess it all comes with the privilege of being white.

Happy Thanksaction!

Some of you may remember the phrase ¡Feliz Día de Acción de Gracias! from high school Spanish. It does indeed mean Happy Thanksgiving. Being the nerd that I am, though, I like to think about the translations and how the words that are used in different languages imply different practices. Well, in all honesty, Thanksgiving isn't really celebrated here in the Nica. There are actually a lot of preparations taking place for the Feast of the Virgin Mary, or Purísima, which starts this weekend and runs through December 8th. It's a pretty big deal. And our choir practice schedule shows it.

But...I'm writing about Thanksgiving, because I'm still gringo and hold close to my heart my Northamerican holidays. So if you want to translate Día de Acción de Gracias, it would come out roughly to "Day of Action/Act of Thanks." That really doesn't mean a whole lot in English, but I like the use of the word Acción, because I feel like "giving thanks" is often turned into simply saying what we're thankful for. But Thanksgiving is more than just saying. It's doing. It's an acción. So here are my thoughts on Thanksaction:

Praise God for all of the wonderful blessings you have in your life. Recognize the unique gifts that each one of us presents to one another. Appreciate the simple things that we often take for granted, such as security within our homes, support from friends and family members, and clean clothes. Hug someone who you haven't seen in a while. Human touch is powerful. Share your talents and skills with someone who can benefit from them, and ask for nothing in return. Listen fully to the words of someone your elder, and learn from what they say. Reflect in silence and allow God to speak to your heart. Spend time away from cars and concrete and notice the beautiful things nature has to offer. Look inside yourself and focus on all the good things you can offer the world. Contemplate how you might become a more complete person. Give your time to someone so their labor might be less. Open your heart to change that makes the world a better place. Be willing to change yourself if necessary. Ponder what it means to Give Thanks, and know that it is all of these things. ¡Feliz Día de Acción de Gracias!

So what's an average day in Port like?

Glad you ask!

Well, if you want to start at the very beginning of the day, I'm often woken up in the middle of the night by a confused gallo (rooster), an agitated perro (dog) or a talkative perico (parakeet). It depends how paranoid I am, too. When the dogs are barking a lot, that means there are people around, and people shouldn't be around at four in the morning. I think I have managed to sleep straight through the night at least a few times, but I'd rather wake up in the middle of the night. That means I'm well-rested and not sleeping too heavily.

I typically get up for the day around 5:30am. I try to participate in some sort of healthy activity like going for a run, attempting to do yoga or doing some exercises at home. There's a gym about a five-minute run away, so I go there occasionally, mainly on Saturday. Just want to get the blood flowing in the morning.

After that, I get out the pot and oatmeal and get that ready. I can't tell you how pumped I was to find out that there was oatmeal in this country, and at a price reasonable enough that I could eat it everyday! I'm somewhere around 70 straight days of oatmeal, which I realize is very ridiculous. I didn't even have that kind of a streak in the States! Breakfast isn't a big thing here, so options are limited. Thankfully, I was able to create my American oatmeal here to Port. It started out just as oatmeal, but I'm building it back up to the old monster it was: eggs, soymilk (well, powdered soymilk), honey, cinnamon...I'm basically just missing pasas (raisins), but I think I might have found an economical source for that too! If only there was Calcium- and Vitamin-D-fortified Florida's Natural Orange Juice to accompany my oatmeal. Sigh.... :)

After breakfast, gotta renew the water source in the house. For that, we have our pozo (well) from which we can pump water into the tank that sits on about a 12 foot tower in the back of the house. The pump can run for about fifteen minutes before it overheats. If I understood the explanation correctly, the machine is actually a pump for oxygen tanks for divers, if that makes any sesne. I could be mistaken, but the moral of the story is that using it to pump water up to a tank isn't really what it's supposed to be used for. So it needs like 10 hours to cool down after it's been running for 15 minutes straight, because that's not what it was made for :). That's so Nica!

I usually find some way to entertain myself for the next hour or so before I go to classes. Usually I take a shower...just kidding - I always take a shower! A cold shower of course. Midday showers are better than morning showers because in the morning it actually is a littly "chilly" (about 65/70 degrees fahrenheit), so cold showers don't always feel great. Taking a midday shower means you're probably sweating, and the heat of the day usually helps to heat up the water in the tank, so it's not so cold. But I don't wanna go to class stinky in the morning, so taking a shower at lunch is not really an option! Then I have half an hour or so before I actually head to classes, so sometimes I just dawdle (if that's a word), sometimes I read, sometimes I sweep. Depends on the day.

The work week is four days long, and Friday is my planning day, so I can figure out what I'll be doing the next week. But (big "but!") we've only had like three or four weeks of regular class since we got here in the middle of September. Whether it's been the threat of political uprising, the celebration of things like Día de la Autonomía (Autonomy Day, which is a-whole-nother topic) or Día de los Difuntos (Day of the Dead), or the threat of weather (hurricane or normal rain), there's always been at least one day when I was supposed to be working that classes didn't happen. Come to think of it, I think I've had about as many days not working as I've had working in the last five weeks. Also very Nica!

When I do actually go into work, I try to teach English to primary school students at Colegio Niño Jesús for about forty minutes first thing in the morning. I say try because it usually doesn't go too well. That's not just particular to me either. The kids are not what you would consider well-behaved and often need to be reminded by their teachers to keep the noise down. Sometimes they take an interest in English for about five minutes, but then they realize it's work just like any other class and they lose interest. So the other 35 minutes is just trying to keep things under control and throw an English lesson in sometimes :).

After that first period, I head over to Escuela Maureen Courtney to work with Carlos for the next hour of classes. Carlos is in the nivelación (catching up) class, which means the staff felt he wasn't benefitting from the normal classroom environment and needed some different attention. Carlos can't identify letters worth a lick, and sometimes I just don't know what to do. I can work with him on three letters for a whole hour and he might get one of them by the end of the day. Maybe! But there's no way he'll remember it the next day. When he's not working with me, he's in class copying down notes that the teacher puts on the board. I'm not sure what he does with these notes, since he can't read, but at least he's well behaved and tries really hard. The kid has an amazing attention span to be able to work with me for that long, and he really seems to want to learn, but it just doesn't stick! I don't know if I'll see much more of Carlos. Word on the street is that his family owes the school his colegiatura (school fees), and he didn't come to class at all this last week and a half, so his family might be keeping him at home so they don't get harassed about payments. Sad :(. But, if anyone has any good ways to teach a kid to identify letters, syllables or words, I'm willing to try anything at this point!

The rest of the morning I spend helping out with the music taller (workshop). Sometimes this involves me actually working with the kids, and sometimes it just involves me practicing guitar, since I'm learning how to play (and eventually teach) right-handed and some upside-down left-handed. I practice guitar when the kids are practicing the recorder. That's right - everybody loves the recorder! The kids actually like the recorder more, too, because it doesn't hurt their fingers to play it, like the guitar does! But when the new schoolyear starts in January (or February, depending on who you ask) I'll actually be working with the kids one-on-one with this, so hopefully they'll learn to love the guitar :).

After that, I walk back to the house for lunch, which usually involves rice and beans somehow. Rice is definitely a staple. A day doesn't go by without rice, and I'm good with that. I'd probably be ok with rice and beans everyday if I had to. Plus it's cheap, so why not? After eating, I usually have about half an hour before heading back to class, so I study some Spanish or some Miskitu or maybe take a power nap if the dogs were barking too much the night before.

Afternoon is spent again at Maureen Courtney. Couple more English classes a couple times a week, more of the same results. I have at least a handful of kids in the fourth-grade class that take an interest in the subject, so I just end up teaching them and asking the other kids to keep the noise down. Teaching five kids for half an hour is better than struggling to teach 30 for five minutes, if you ask me... It was frustrating at first, but I've accepted that I can't change in one day what the kids have been doing for years.

I also do more individual attention in the afternoon - with Alejandro, who is about 20 and also has significant learning impediments. He's in the nivelación class in the afternoon. My understanding is he got into the education system late, and so he struggles with reading as well. He can identify letters and syllables and eventually words with a bit of effort. If we repeat a sentence enough, he not only reads it, he also comprehends it. We've been working a lot on that lately, because he knows the syllables well enough to get the words out, but he doesn't always know what the point of the sentence is. Another good kid. Super quiet. Pretty sure his first language is Miskitu. Another good reason to learn the language, right?!

Eliezer is the third kid I work with individually, also in the afternoon nivelación. Eliezer has an easy time identifying and reading syllables, but also struggles with comprehension. His reading is robotic, but the good part is he does know the syllables, which is more than a lot of kids in the class can say. He also works really hard and can put up with me for an hour of class, which says quite a bit. Now if only he would do his homework...

I usually get home from the schools around 4:30pm. Since we've only been in the house about a month, there's been a lot of projects to work on, so there's been a lot of that kind of getting stuff done. Just lots of odd jobs that I won't bore you with. We do have a homemade compost bin though. Yeah! Well, we've had a compost bin for about two weeks. I can't say how long we'll have it because it might get ripped off. That would be sad, because it took a while to punch the holes in it. Hopefully the ladrones (thieves) would be smart enough to realize that it wouldn't really serve as a garbage can anymore. Although, I suppose it could be used as a clothes hamper...

Weekends are actually pretty busy. Laundry is handwashed, so doing that once a week leaves about two hours worth of laundry to clean and rinse and hang. I always pray for sun on the days when I do laundry so it dries out quickly! Sometimes it can take like 30 hours to have it dry out. Doing laundry has taken on a whole new meaning, because I'm actually DOING the laundry, instead of having a machine do it for me.

Weekends have also gotten full with choir activities. At first I thought choir would be a Saturday-afternoon-practice/Sunday-afternoon-church activity, but it seems there's always another special celebration to ensayar (rehearse) for. So we often end up practicing on Sunday afternoon, too, and then maybe singing at another event. So Sunday is like my fifth work day.

I guess to answer the question, there really is no average day here in Bilwi! Especially with the weather! Rain days here are more prevalent than snow days in the States. Since most of the kids walk to class from 10 to 45 minutes away, and because there's a belief (founded or unfounded) that the kids get sick when they get wet, only about 20% of the kids show up when it's pouring out. So after about half an hour of debating whether or not kids are going to show up, everyone gets sent home. More recently, the sun has begun to set sooner, so the afternoon classes get let out a little earlier so the kids can get home from school before dark. Always another reason to shortern the day! Someday this might frustrate me, but not right now. For the time being, I'm just taking whatever comes and trying to process my place in the world. I'll have plenty of time to think about it in December when there's no class!

Not for those with a weak stomach

So I had started to write about just what exactly I do around here on a regular basis when something came up this morning. I was starting to work on laundry when one of our little mouse friends decided to scoot past me along the wall. We've been trying to solve this mouse problem for a while now. We bought poison a few weeks ago and found one dead mouse in our laundry room a few days later, but holes were still getting punched in our food bags (Dry spaghetti? Oats? Seriously, what is this mouse thinking?). So we figured out that the mice were using the hole in the wall where the sink plumbing runs in order to get into and out of the house. Ok, so we put more poison down there. Well, we hadn't really seen much of the mice until today.

So, obviously the goal is to get rid of the mice. I don't know a whole lot about mice, but I don't really want to chance one biting me so "getting rid of," in this case, means killing, and probably killing pretty brutally. So I follow it along the wall and it hides behind our leftover roll of barbed wire. I move that and he hides behind of the legs of the laundry sink, and he's obviously trying to get to his hole in the wall. So I redirect him back to the other wall where he hides behind a broom. Fortunately, we have about a foot-long block of wood sitting in the laundry room, so I pick that up, move the broom and when he starts to scurry, take a whack!

Somehow I connected so he's kind of hobbling toward the back door to get outside, so I have to hit him again, because now it's a matter of putting him out of his misery. So I whack him again, doing my best to hit him on the head so it's quick, but he's still moving around. I pushed him outside in the back of the house and gave him the third hit that ended his day...and life.

After we found the first dead mouse, it was a sense of accomplishment. The mouse was causing problems, we decided to address the problem and we got rid of the problem. It was easy because it was like it was the mouse's fault for eating the poison. It was indirect. This time, it was very direct. I not only watched the mouse die. I participated in it's death. Hell, I was the main antagonist.

Some of you may think, Big deal. Dead mouse. Well my mind doesn't operate that way when I kill something. I immediately felt like crap. I'm thinking, all this mouse is doing is living it's life, causing me the minor problem of poking holes in food bags, and here comes the big human with the stick to put an end to things.

This is the problem I have with war. Yeah, I'm taking it there. I'm not gonna sit here and say I have the solution to ending international (or even intranational) conflict without using force, but war to me is an ugly thing. To me, sending troops off to war is like putting poison out for mice. Sooner or later, something's gonna end up dead. It's easy to put the poison out, because it detaches you from the situation. You don't have to do anything, and the outcome just happens. That's how it is for national leaders. Presidents, dictators, whoever. They send troops off to fight their fights and don't have to see the consequences directly. I'd like to see how a national leader would react if, instead of the enemy killing their troops, the troops were released home to the leader so that he or she him- or herself would have to end that soldier's life. How would that change the game?

So, of course, about ten minutes later another mouse scurries by me while I'm doing laundry. I'm still literally upset about having killed what I have to assume is this new mouse's brother or sister, so there's no way I'm killing this one. But I'm also not just gonna let it keep eating into our food bags. This mouse is moving pretty slow, so I'm figuring I can catch him. He gets into a corner and apparently is trying to act like I don't see him, so I grab one of the old rice sacks we have in the laundry room, throw it over him and pick him up, as he squeals for his life :(. I chuck him into the bucket we use for getting extra water from the pozo and let him sit, trying to figure out the best solution for getting rid of him.

Well, about an hour later, he's laying in the bucket panza arriba (belly-up). Apparently, he got into the poison we had set out. That would also explain why a mouse was moving slow enough that I was able to grab it.

Three dead mice. Two indirect and one direct kill. On some level, I know it's kind of silly to get upset about it. How many mice get killed in a day by how many people? I guess it's the bigger picture of respect for creation and my wondering about what makes one species superior to another that makes me think about this more than you might think about it. I just hope there's no more mice to have to make a decision about...

Making the necessary adjustments

The last month has been a real whirlwind. I'm actually shocked to see that I haven't written for almost a full four weeks. I guess that shows how involved my mind has been in other thoughts.

Being in Port has required a significant adjustment. Before I left, I anticipated some time of transition and change, but the level to which I have experienced these thus far has been a surprise.

I had come to Port with the expectation of working at the schools as a planner of extra-curricular activities, with some phy ed teaching on the side. It is obvious, though, that the need is greater in other areas.

I have been working with a number of students on an individual level, working mainly with reading. Well, not so much reading as identifying letters and syllables. I have one boy, Carlos, who simply cannot grasp the alphabet for the life of him. Today, I asked him to find the letter "i" in the alphabet. After looking for a while, he pointed to the letter "g." I explained what letter it was, reviewed vowels with him in hopes that it might jog his memory since he seems to identify vowels quicker, and then asked him again to find the letter "i." After searching for another minute or so, he pointed to the letter "g"....again. So where do you go from there?

For all you teachers out there, I have gained a new level of respect for what you do. I've also been teaching--or trying to teach--a number of English classes between the two schools (Maureen Courtney and Niño Jesús). Some classes are better than others, but the overall lack of discipline at the schools has been a real challenge. Kids are constantly asking to go to the bathroom or to get a drink of water. They wander over to their friends' desks to talk about who knows what. Not everyone always has a pencil, so there are constant requests to share writing utensils, which just means it takes longer for them to get everything copied down. Additionally, the kids are all at such different levels that trying to move on once a topic has been covered means deciding to leave about 75% of the kids in the dark, because they a) only came to class once this week, b) didn't bring their notebook and couldn't take down the notes or c) simply didn't pay attention or write anything down. To make things more challenging, the regular teachers usually wander off when I go into to teach the class, so if the class goes nuts, there's not much I can do. I could offer a punishment, but what? There's no test for English class, no grade, no passing or failing depending on how much you learned in English. Essentially, I just have to hope the kids behave. Oy!

The greatest challenge, though, is language. Oh, my Spanish is coming along fine and I continue to associate with Spanish-speakers, but the indigenous language of Miskitu is so prevalent that some of the students need directions given to them in Miskitu (which of course means they're definitely not learning anything in English class). Additionally, many of the teachers talk amongst themselves in Miskitu, and there have been times where they've intentionally switched to Miskitu so I don't know what's going on. (No, I'm not just being paranoid. If someone says Háblame en Miskitu para que... which means Talk to me in Miskitu so that... and then points at me, that's not just paranoia.) I knew Miskitu was spoken in Port, but I didn't realize it was so widespread.

I went through a good week or two of significant frustration with the language barrier, the cultural challenges (where 1pm actually means 4:30pm, if they actually come at all), the being so far away from family and friends and everything else I'm used to having at my disposal. But I've been able to encounter a certain peacefulness in the last couple weeks. I've gotten ahold of some resources for learning Miskitu and have started learning the language. I plan to tackle that full out in December when school's out. I've gotten used to the idea of just how long I'm going to be here and how much I'll learn, despite the fact that I haven't learned everything in the first couple of months (if you know me, you know I think I should be able to learn everything in two weeks :)). And I'm learning in general to take things as they come, to try not to be on my own schedule all the time and to look for ways I can do what needs to be done and not just what I want to do. It's a lot of adjusting, but I think I'm making progress.

Fire!

I'm a little delayed on getting this post up, but last Friday turned out to be more "exciting" than anticipated. In Nicaragua, the education system is regulated so that all the primary and secondary school students are learning the same thing. In order to keep teachers up to date, they take the last Friday of the month to get together (by the grade they teach) in the morning or afternoon to review what needs to be taught for the next month. It's a painful process to see, because there are only a handful of manuals for every 20 or so teachers, so the meeting is largely composed of copying what is in the manual into a notebook. Photocopying or getting more manuals doesn't seem to be an option.

Anywho, I tell you that simply to explain that we observed this meeting and then had the afternoon free to do whatever. I was a little tired after the first week of work and getting adjusted to the schools, so I decided to lay down and take a nap. I slept for about half an hour before the humidity woke me up. I was dozing back of when I heard a loud boom. That didn't seem out of the normal by any means, because where our house is located, there's a decent amount of traffic coming into and going out of the main part of the city, so trucks are often coming by and making a racket. Then about five seconds later, my fan shut off, so I knew the power was out. Again, not very alarming since the power has gone out a half dozen times since we've been here. I knew I wasn't going to be able to sleep at all without the fan, so I started to get up, and at that point my brain started processing the boom and the power outage as more than coincidence.

So I stepped out onto the porch and saw the black smoke rising up above the trees across the street and thought, Well, that can't be good. So I grab the keys and open up the front gate. I walked out to the left (west) and walked over to the street that runs perpendicular to the street our house is on. About five houses north, there's a house absolutely up in flames. By this time, anyone who heard the boom or saw the smoke rising above the trees is gathering around to watch the spectacle. By the time I ran back inside to get my camera (yeah, I'm kind of a tourist like that), the fire had started to spread to the house next door. Now the neighbors are getting worried about how far it's going to spread. A fire truck finally shows up after about ten or fifteen minutes, but guess what's missing - water! So now we've got to wait another ten minutes for the water trucks to come, because the Good Lord knows there's not fire hydrants here. So, like I said, the neighbors are getting worried about their stuff, so we all start helping this guy clear his stuff out of his house. Unfortunately, some of the kids that were "helping" were actually taking advantage of the situation to do some personal shopping. Thankfully, none of the big stuff was stolen, and we got it down the street (near our house) so it would be out of harm's way.

Now sweating profusely and trickled with ash, I decide to get a closer look at the fire and get some up close and personal footage. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the greatest idea in the world, but it was fun to be so close to the action. First of all, I counted one and about five pairs of firefighter boots among the couple dozens of guys trying to get the fire out. A significant amount of time was spent trying to get the fire truck's hose hooked up with the water truck's valve and get some water pressure. It seemed to be that whoever was willing to help would jump in, so I ended up helping snake the hose over the chain link fence and around some posts. After about ten more minutes, they were finally able to get water pressure and started on spraying everything down, and in about 20 minutes, things were mostly under control.

We helped the neighbor man get his things back into his house, and I talked with him for a little while about life stuff, the kinds of things you get into when you are about to lose all your possessions and are just glad to have your life. He was grateful for the help and content to have what he had. Thankfully the fire didn't spread any further, and hopefully it will be the last time any of us have to see anything like it.

Out of "The Zone"

After a week and a half of lounging and getting somewhat acclimated to Port, we started work at the schools this week. I spent Monday and Tuesday at Colegio Niño Jesús and Wednesday and today at Escuela Maureen Courtney. Since we got here toward the end of their school years (which run from mid-February through November), it has been a bit of a challenge to find our niche within the school schedule, and it has caused to feel a little out of place, out of "the zone."

Colegio Niño Jesús is a Primary and Secondary school (age of Primary schools kids range from about 6-12, while Secondary school is usually between ages 10 and 16. I know there's some overlap there, but that's how it is!), and there seems to be less of a need for us at this school for the time-being. The kids in primary school have class from 7:30am until 11:45am. The secondary schools kids are in class from 12:20 to 5:20 (there's no lunch program for the schools, and I think that contributes to the schedule. That and the fact that there are a limited number of classrooms and having all the kids there at the same time wouldn't work.) I'll probably mainly end up teaching English there once or twice a day for the last couple months of the school year, and then I'm hoping to find a greater calling once we start planning the school schedule in January.

Escuela Maureen Courtney is a Primary school that also serves kids with special needs. The age range of the kids here is much greater, from between 6 years to "kids" in their 20s. The younger grades (1st through 3rd) come to school in the morning, and the older grades (4th through 6th) come to school in the afternoon. In both the morning and afternoon sessions, there are special needs classrooms and a "nivelación" classroom, specifically designed for getting certain kids up to speed, or "nivelado." As there are many kids with delays, cognitive challenges, diagnosed "handicaps", or any other challenge, there is a significant need for individual attention. It seems I'll be offering a couple of English classes, starting to work with the music teacher so I can give guitar lessons down the line (if you think that sounds crazy, that makes two of us) and then spending a large chunk of my time working one-on-one with kids who are struggling with handwriting, language skills (yes, a gringo teaching Spanish), math, reading, etc. At some point, I believe I'll be taking on a "caseload" of kids to whom I will be offering counseling.

All of this is significantly different than what I had been anticipating prior to arriving. After-school/recreational activity planning was where I was headed, but the need is greater in other areas. It has been challenging to find my place within the structure of classes, and it wasn't until we met with all the teachers (ten in the morning and a half dozen in the afternoon) at Maureen Courtney that we all got a sense of where we were needed and how we could fit in to the daily routine. I can only pray that a similar sort of schedule can be sorted out next Monday at Niño Jesús.

Additionally challenging has been the use of Miskito by a large percentage of the population. It has been difficult to deal with the language barrier. So many of the professors and kids speak Miskito on a regular basis that there are many times that we are left out of the conversation by default or on purpose. Thankfully, the staff is all bi-lingual, and a great majority of the students are as well, as all the classes are taught in Spanish (although some of the students speak Spanish as a second language and need an explanation in Miskito to fully grasp the concept). A couple people have offered to teach Miskito in exchange for English lessons, a situation I will definitely be taking advantage of. In fact, the teachers are planning to let the kids out of school early on Friday mornings for the rest of the year to give us Miskito lessons for half an hour and have us give them English lessons for half an hour. Of course, with how things operate down here, there's no way we'll actually have an hour AND have time to eat lunch before afternoon classes, so maybe 20 minutes of lessons each.

On a lighter note, how many of us hear the phrase, "And for those of you that can bring your machete to school tomorrow, please have those, as we will be doing clean-up"? As financial resources are limited at Maureen Courtney (and I'm assuming at many schools throughout the country), there is not an official maintenance person, so the kids are in charge of keeping the classrooms and common green spaces clean. Of course, if you think there are lawn mowers, you are soooorely mistaken. I know that neither my wrist nor my back would have put up with the machete chopping that the kids did today! It's just not everyday that you see a BYOM (Bring Your Own Machete, as Kathryn so aptly named it) Party, and especially not at a school.

My lifestyle is already beginning to change in simple ways like going to bed around 9:30pm in order to wake up between 5:00 and 5:30am, eating a lot of vegetables since they are the most readily available food option, and taking time to learn more Spanish instead of watching SportsCenter. I have been fortunate to have not suffered any major setbacks, and I hope I can continue adjusting to life down here and start to feel more "in the zone."

Home Sweet Home

So we've been in Port for a week. It's been a pretty tranquila week. We've been lounging around a lot, trying to avoid the afternoon sun. September is supposedly the hottest month in Nicaragua. Arrived just in time for the heat wave, I guess. It's encouraging to know that the temperature will decrease, though I'm still not sure what the difference will be. I do know that sitting is my favorite new exercise. The output of sweat is similar to that of actually doing exercise.

So the setup right now is not definite. We got set up in what I consider to be a very luxurious house. We're actually living with the landlord's son; and the son's friend used to live here, is now sleeping in a little place next door and basically lives here just the same (he's here to shower and eat). The guys are cool, and it's been to our advantage to have a couple of locals around during our transition time. Still, we are anticipating a move at the end of the month when the rent is up or a few months down the line, so we can get closer to the convent (we're being supported by the Agnesian Sisters) and get set up with a space for the three of us, so it's more conducive to the community living that Cap Corps so fervently seeks.

Things are starting to fall into place a little bit more with the work we'll be doing. It's actually a little amalgam of tasks. For the first couple of months, things will likely be very informal, with the goal in mind of being able to transition to a sort of counselor relationship with the students. The school year runs from mid-February to the end of November, so we're getting here more toward the end of the year. For a couple of months we'll probably be observing classes, assisting some professors and maybe giving some English classes, with the possibility of other classes as well. Once January rolls around, we'll be into more of a set schedule. There's also talk of guitar lessons (surprise!), since the school has like 20 guitars that have been sitting around for years. I've got a lot of practicing to do to get ready to teach kids how to play!

Beyond the work, there's a lot more to get to know. I'm hoping to make some good friends in the market and try to get a deal on some food sometimes. There are supposedly some cool barrios nearby that we've yet to visit. If the opportunity presents itself, it would be great to hop on a bus and see places that are within a couple hours, but I don't know what the funding will allow. We'll see how the first couple months go.

So far, Bilwi is pretty much what I expected it to be. Maybe a little bit more :). Languages abound. Between Spanish, Creole, Miskito and some broken English, it takes a few seconds to distinguish the language and then begin deciphering what is actually being said. I think there's actually another language in there that I'm forgetting about. I know I'm hoping to get hooked up with some Miskito language classes to get some idea of what people are saying and to be able to go to Sunday mass at 10am and not be totally perplexed.

I'm glad to have a little time to relax right now. With Nicaragua celebrating Central America's Independence, there hasn't been much going on since we got here. Next week we'll start getting into the work routine and get an idea of how things will actually go. Until then, just more tranquilo living.

The transition has been more difficult than I had expected it to be. Having gone through the living abroad thing when I studied abroad in Quito, I figured it would be easy to adjust to living in a different country. But the fact that the living setup is different and the fact that I'm going to be here twice as long as when I studied abroad makes this time a bit heavier. It's hard to be away from the family and friends I've always been around. It's also difficult to be away from the activities I'm used to doing. It's definitely a bigger adjustment than I had anticipated, but so far I haven't had anymore breakdowns. I think having less to do gives me more time to think and long for things I'm used to, so once we start working, my mind will hopefully be more distracted.

In any case, this is my home until the calendar turns to 2011. It's crazy to think about all the changes I'll undergo, my family will undergo, my friends will undergo, my country will undergo in the time I'm here in Nicaragua. With any luck, the changes will be for the better :).

Into the Unknown

Yesterday and today we said goodbye to the kids and staff at Casa Xalteva. I'm not very good at goodbyes, so the language barrier makes it even worse. The fact that they have a computer with internet makes it easier, because we can still communicate by email or on Facebook. I'm hoping we can come back and visit them sometime down the line. It was a really fun place to be around. Even after just three weeks it's hard to have to say goodbye. I can only imagine what it'll be like to leave Puerto Cabezas after 16 months.

So that's where we're headed next. Puerto Cabezas. Port. Bilwi. Whichever name you want to use, I'm still not totally convinced it exists. Before coming to Nicaragua, we had limited information on it since it's not a tourist destination and because it's so separated from the departamentos on the west side of the country. If information was limited before coming here, it's not much better now. In fact, Port has become even more mysterious as we've gotten closer geographically to the place itself.

Once again, because it's not a tourist destination and because it's so separated from the rest of the popular cities of Nicaragua, not many locals make the trip out there, and few people from out there make the trip to the west side of the country. Let me tell you what I've learned about Bilwi so far.

- Lots of drugs pass through Bilwi. It's close to the Honduran border, and it's kind of a hub for drug trafficking. Even better, when drug boats are caught, the drugs get tossed off the boat, and if the boat happens to be off the shore of Bilwi, the drugs wash up on shore. People collect the drugs, dry them out and then sell them anyways. Sounds like a great way to make some extra cash for the Port community! Yeah!

- It's very dangerous in Puerto Cabezas. I actually shouldn't go there because I'll probably get stabbed. Apparently this is a hobby people have in Port. They'll definitely mug me, and if they feel like it, they'll stab me.

- The people of Bilwi speak Spanish, Miskito and Creole English. In fact, they speak mainly Creole, so my Spanish won't be of any use there.

Sounds like quite the destination, I know. When people first started making these comments about Puerto Cabezas, I admit I was a little concerned. By the time my neighbor here told me I would get stabbed (he actually put his hand into a fist and mimicked stabbing himself in the stomach while telling me this), I just let people say whatever they felt was most appropriate and then dislodged it from my brain. See, what all these people had in common is that, while telling their story, they at some point uttered the same sentence - "No lo conozco, pero...", which means, "I've never been there, but..." And I've learned that those people really have no idea what they're talking about. Not to be arrogant, but they really don't. There seems to be a recurring theme among some people that they like to bash cities that aren't there own. So it's not just Puerto Cabezas that's bad. Managua is bad, San Juan del Sur is bad, Leon is bad.

The good news is that I have run into two people that have been to Puerto Cabezas. One was there briefly for a military assignment a number of years ago. Another had been there just travelling a while ago. Both were Nicaraguans and both of them said that Puerto Cabezas is a beautiful place, and that I'll enjoy being there. That's the kind of information I can give validity to. If someone had gone there and gotten stabbed or knew someone that had gone there and gotten stabbed, I might be able to give more credence to their story.

I feel good knowing that the people have been there feel like it's a nice place. It's still a little bit of an unknown. I'm really not sure what language is going to be spoken there. Puerto Cabezas does seem to operate under it's own government in a way (they are part of the Region Autonoma Atlantic Norte - The North Atlantic Autonomous Region), so it will be interesting to see what kinds of news reaches the east coast. I also know that geographically it is very separate from the rest of the country, so being isolated that way might be interesting as well. I'm excited to finally get there. We'll have a couple days in Managua to get to know the city a little bit, and then we're off to Port on Wednesday. Sounds like we might be flying there. We had been expecting to be on a 15 hour bus ride, but we might be white-knuckling on an hour and a half flight instead. I don't really know which one I prefer. I'm just ready to get settled into our new community.

Casa Xalteva

It's been almost two weeks since I last wrote, and the time has gone by very quickly. We've had the opportunity to visit Managua to see where the Managua crew would be living and working; we've visited Volcan Masaya, one of two or three active volcanoes in the area; and we've gone swimming at the laguna de Apoyo, about an hour and a half trip outside of Granada.

Where I've been spending most of my time, though, is at Casa Xalteva. In my last entry, I inappropriately referred to it as a school. It's more like a Boys and Girls Club in the States. The kids come here in the morning or afternoon (the kids in primary school have classes in the afternoon, so they come to Casa Xalteva in the morning; the kids in secondary school have classes in the morning, so they come to Casa Xalteva in the afternoon) for help with homework and to have a safe environment in which to hang out into the evening. Casa Xalteva also offers language classes, which is part of the reason we came here. We take English classes in the afternoon for about four hours, and then most of us offer an English class at night for an hour.

The house itself has been around for about 14 years. One of its administrators, Juan Carlos, has been around since its inception. I was able to sit down and talk with him a little bit about the history of Casa Xalteva. He said that now, the environment is much more healthy. When Casa Xalteva first started in 1995, the kids were much more challenging, often coming from families that used drugs, or sometimes the kids themselves had drug problems.


From 1995 to 1999, Juan Carlos worked for the founders and owners of Casa Xalteva, who are from the United States. Juan Carlos said this sometimes made things difficult because they weren't around to see the everyday operations and couldn't always take as much time to get to know the staff and children of Casa Xalteva. Their visits to Granada were often more based on the business aspect.


For a few years thereafter, Juan Carlos was basically operating the house on his own; that is, there weren't other professors or staff members at Casa Xalteva. Of course he was still communicating with and receiving support for the owners in the States. All along in the process, though, he was the one that "found" kids to be in the program. He would talk with them if they were just hanging out in the street or if someone would recommend that he talk to a family about Casa Xalteva, he would do that.

The program started to grow again around 2003. Oscar was one of the first kids that is still here that joined around that time. He was living with his grandmother of about 85 years of age and was hanging out a lot in the street. Juan Carlos talked with his grandma about the program and she thought it would be a good idea for him. Oscar now lives with Juan Carlos, since Oscar's grandma is now in her 90's and isn't able to take care of him on her own.


Francisco is another one of the kids that has been around here the longest. Juan Carlos met him and found out that he was living with his uncles since his mom had left to live in another part of Nicaragua. His uncles were pretty heavy into alcohol, and Juan Carlos felt like it was harder to convince them to let Francisco spend time at Casa Xalteva. Francisco still spends nights and weekends at the house, but he has a much more positive environment for the rest of the day at Casa Xalteva.


There is a group of four kids that comes from a family of sixteen children that range in age from 10 to 28. Obviously it is difficult for a family to take care of that many kids, so the ones that were able to enter into Casa Xalteva benefit from some one-on-one attention and the basic food that the school provides for them.


Around 2006, there were enough kids here that Juan Carlos needed more people to work in administration. He found someone in Jorge Luis. Rather than continue as director, Juan Carlos allowed Jorge Luis to occupy that position. Juan Carlos continues to work in administration, and he works daily with the professors and other staff at Casa Xalteva to make sure things run smoothly. Jorge Luis works more with the "outside world," maintaining contact with people who are interested in coming to the school for Spanish classes and/or volunteer.


Juan Carlos said that the environment right now at the school is very good. He is very conscious of how one child's presence can impact the rest of the kids and exercises great care in discerning whether or not a child should be "accepted" into Casa Xalteva. He wants to make sure that kids have the opportunity to get help, but he does not want to jeopardize the development or safety of the other kids in Casa Xalteva.

The kids all treat each other very well, and it's almost like a big family. Most of the professors are younger, in their mid- to late-twenties, and they're really great role models for the kids. Overall, there is a positive vibe about the place, and you can see the positive impact it has on the kids. It's one of those places that you wish all the kids in Nicaragua could come to, so they would have an opportunity to be in a safe environment with other kids and with someone positive to look up to. As much as I'm looking forward to getting to Puerto Cabezas and getting set up with our house and work, it'll be hard to leave the kids after three weeks here.

If you want to see more about Casa Xalteva, they have a website (hasn't been updated in about a year, but it's a good source of info): www.casaxalteva.org

This is it...

The adventure started early on Saturday morning at 6:58am BACT (Bedside Alarm Clock Time). I didn't know it at the time, but 6:57am would be my last minute of sleep in the States for quite some time. Saturday/Sunday was a long day of preparation - Preparing to distance myself (more physically than emotionally) from relationships at home, preparing to enter into new relationships abroad and, of course, last minute preparation that involved getting my suitcase down from 57lbs to 49.5lbs.

I was almost numb saying goodbye to my fellow volunteers headed to Peru, my sister Katherine and my parents at the airport on Sunday morning. Saturday's goodbyes left me almost without more tears to cry. On Saturday, I had to say goodbye to my sister Sara, bro-in-law Brian, Nick, Makayla, Cat, Todd and Julia and anyone else that I managed to get in touch with that day.

Even then, it didn't really hit me until I was laying on my bed in my host family's house here in Granada just how long 18 months is. There's a lot to be afraid of, a lot to look forward to and a lot to learn.

The first couple of days have been a whirlwind. On Sunday, the city was closing out a weeklong fiesta with a "hípico", or parade of horses. They parade about 3,000 horses from all over down the main drag in Granada, La Calle Xalteva. I got tired around 4:30, when it occurred to me that I had been standing in the sol for a solid hour of the two hours we were there, and I didn't have sunscreen on. My host-dad took me back to the house, and, after about an hour of re-arranging my suitcases so I knew where things were and writing a few things in my journal, I crashed. I slept about 11 and a half hours.

At the school, we are doing volunteer work in the morning and then having language class all afternoon. In the morning, we will probably be helping kids with homework, but since they didn't have much from the last week (when the fiesta was going on), we basically just hung out with them, playing soccer, cards (Uno!) and Sherrades (hmmm...bad spelling). Today, we went about 10 minutes outside the town to these islands that were formed by the volcano erupting some time ago. It ended up forming about 300 little islands (isletas) that people have turned into vacation housing or a business place/housing. We hung out there with the about a dozen of the kids and a few instructors from the school for a few hours, swimming and hanging out. One of the nearby islands is the isleta de los monos, aptly named for its primary inhabitants. I think the monkeys had one too many foreign visitors, because when we swam up, I think they were waiting for food.

Then in the afternoon, instead of classes, they decided it would be good to take us to San Juan del Oriente (at least I think that's where we were) to get a look at how the people there make their ceramics. We got to take a shot at forming some sort of bowl or vase or anything resembling useful ceramics. I failed miserably, and I think most people in the group struggled as well. It was entertaining. I hope we stay in class tomorrow. I think I'd like to keep on with the Spanish classes instead of the all-day excursions. I think that was just a one-day thing anyway.

It's crazy to be somewhere where everyone speaks Spanish again. We've all been pretty good about speaking in Spanish amongst our gringo selves, so hopefully that will continue. I'm enjoying the time here as something different. My clock gets unplugged in the morning to save electricity, so I set the time every night before I go to bed. Just something foreign to me I guess. Got me to thinking that if everyone did that in the States with many appliances, it might save a lot of energy. But that's the idealist in me talking.

Capitalism

I was going to be in bed by 11:30 tonight. However, I needed also to get some things done after volleyball. So two emails, three Craigslist postings, one enneagram test and about 40 photos (still uploading) later, here I sit. I realized today that I didn't really have any pictures to take along with me, so I figured it would be a good idea to get some printed.

Anyway. We had a really loaded session today at training. I honestly had a rough time following everything this morning because it seemed based around economic theory and some comparisons to physics and biology that I couldn't wrap my head around. Plus, I was having a hard time following along because I couldn't see the powerpoint.

But in the afternoon, I think I got the gist of what was going on. Basically, the point that was trying to be made was that Capitalism makes people into marketshares or things that can or cannot produce/spend/transfer money, which devalues the person and strips the person's job of its dignity. Another economic model, Catholic Social Teaching, puts more emphasis on distribution of wealth and valuing the worker, the person.

If you know me, you might have at some point heard me complain about how America is losing the middle class, and the disparity between the rich and the poor is growing too much for a "successful" economy to be sustained. (By the way, if this doesn't make sense...it's midnight, so you'll just have to work with me.) So I think this Catholic Social Teaching kind of puts legitimate economic thought to my random critiques of United States capitalism. However, I found myself in the session thinking about how impossible it is to change "Americans" point of view.

The idea is that there is an opportunity--given the economic state of the country--to change peoples' way of thinking and get them to buy into the idea of equality and wealth sharing and legitimate opportunity for everyone. Problem is, how do you change the beliefs of a people four plus centuries in the making. You can go back and look at the history of how badly the "others" of this country were treated. Native Americans, women, blacks, homosexuals. Those are the ones the pop into my head most readily. Supposedly, these "others" (I use the term to describe how they were seen at the point of their greatest struggles) have been given more opportunity than they ever have, but are they really equal? Native Americans were given little plots of land in a country that was stolen from them. Women make, what, 80 cents to the dollar of what a man makes in the same job. It's great that we have a black president (one-drop theory comes to mind here, though), but look at the rest of the federal government. And the gay community is still struggling for many rights denied of them.

Point is, I'm not sure the people in the US can truly adopt a new economy. I think people can kind of see how Capitalism failed them, but if the economy bounces back within a year or two, it's going to be hard to convince people to make serious changes in their way of life. I would love for the "person" to be valued and not simply seen as a worker that produces goods or buys goods or whatever. It would be great to see a better distribution of wealth so everyone can have what they need instead of one person owning a huge flat-panel TV and another struggling to get enough food to eat each month. How do you do that with HUMANS though? There's always this sense of entitlement (this was also brought up this morning, but briefly). How are you going to get people to become doctors if they get the same pay, or near same pay, as someone who does some mindless, low-stress job?

Anyway, my apologies for the negative thoughts. My pictures are done printing and I should probably get to a bed. Maybe I'll learn more about this in the future and be able to talk about it with more reason than my own intuition.

Last night in the valley

I'm taking a break from packing. I made the mistake of not starting until today, so hopefully everything fits. I've suddenly become paranoid about my luggage. Too many people looking through my belongings.

Speaking of which, I think I have too many belongings. I don't really intend to bring much money, so having all the necessities is important. Still feels like there's too much stuff.

I've been spending a lot of time with my niece and nephew while I've been around my parents' house (my sister and brother-in-law and the kids live across the street). That's pretty commonplace when I'm in Kaukauna. I think a lot about the process of growing up and get way ahead of myself thinking about my own kids and how hard it will be to see them leave the house. Yeah, I know, REALLY ahead of myself on that one.

My parents say it's helpful for them to have someone to entertain the kids when my sister and bro-in-law have other things to do. I wish I could pretend to be so generous, but I have too much fun for it to be altruistic. That's not what I'm trying to get at though. Point is, they're the ones that will probably go through the most dramatic changes while I'm gone. Nick's heading to middle school for 5th grade and Makayla's getting into 1st grade. They'll each by half-way through the next grade level by the time I come back. They're such good kids. I hope they know they're good and try to stay that way. Their parents are certainly doing everything they can to raise them the right way.

But that's just two of the people it will be difficult for me to leave. I think family in general is the most challenging to say goodbye to. My other sister is probably the most excited for me, since she has volunteered abroad and knows what kind of impact it can have. Thankfully I have the support (however hesitant) of my parents, who probably didn't anticipate that two of their children would leave them for another country. No worries, mom and dad - I've made it this far, right?

My friends...I'm not even sure how many of you all know I'm leaving. Some of you might be reading this post a few months into my time in Nicaragua. Doesn't mean I don't like you. Just means I'm kind of a slacker and don't do well with goodbyes and the like. The people who've seen me, I keep telling them I'll see them again before I leave, but I have no idea if that'll actually happen. Hopefully it does, but who knows...

It's probably a good idea to return to packing. We start our Cap Corps orientation tomorrow in Milwaukee. Nine jam-packed days of learning fun! Yeah!

Good People

I'm getting sort of a late start on this. I meant to lay out an introduction to this whole adventure before Ecumenical orientation in Chicago, but things didn't happen that way. And that's okay :). But I can tell you now that the journey has started. I got into Milwaukee late last night after twelve jam-packed days in Chicago. Here is what I learned:

~ Chocolate Peanut Butter Bars are delicious right after you make them but are otherwise hard to get rid of
~ You can make a presenter as interesting or as dull as you want to make them
~ My concept of poverty differs from others' concept of poverty
~ Expect hospitality. Do not be thrown by hostility. Hope for blessing.
~ Abraham was kind of a schmuck.
~ Or maybe Abraham was just acting in the context of his culture.
~ Culture is not so easily defined.
~ Racism is not so easily defined.
~ My concept of racism differs from others' concept of racism.
~ There is indeed a donut shop that is open 24 hours.
~ My face looks pretty ridiculous when I have a big yawn.
~ Trying to find a parking spot in downtown Chicago results in a long drive.
~ So does going to a mosque on the other side of town and then coming back in rush-hour traffic.
~ The neo-futurists close their doors at 7:00pm. It will not serve you well to arrive at 7:09pm.
~ I'm still somewhat socially handicapped.
~ It takes an hour to get anywhere in Chicago. At least from 35th and Archer.
~ Some people talk a lot. Some people don't. If we all did one or the other, it would be real boring or a real mess.
~ Nesh!
~ It's really hard to make someone else understand that you're laughing at yourself, not at them.
~ There are good people and there are bad people. How that came about, I'm still not totally sure.
~ There were a lot of good people at LSTC.
~ Kitchen staff included.
~ Eighteen months is a long time.
~ Eighteen months is not a long time at all.
~ I hope I can do what I'm supposed to do.

The whole orientation was really incredible. It went by extremely fast, too. I thought I might be bored by the end of it, but having to leave the people made it difficult. I think John's slideshow really put a great perspective on things. With 50+ gathered in Chicago, getting ready to go to 20+ different countries around the world... It's pretty amazing to think about the ways we will influence and the ways in which we will be influenced. Here's to patience and an open heart...