New Contact Info!

My new mailing address is:

Patrick Reynolds
Jesuit Volunteer Corp
APDO CS 9
Ciudad Sandino, Nicaragua
C.A.

Year Dos

It's been over a year now. It's hard to believe it, but I've been living in Nicaragua for over a year. This past month has been full of changes and goodbyes. This week Michael and Jenna left for the States after two years of service. It's sounds like they are already enjoying the little things of home like bagels, sliced deli ham, and holding new nephews. The new volunteers arrived about two weeks ago and have been busy with orientation. While they have been away I've spent most of my time trying to fix up the new house. The house is huge and has required daily mopping because of the clouds of dust that come with the dry season. Also, there is a lot to be done because it was left vacant for over half a year. Toilets needed fixing. The yard needs planting and watering. Clothes need washing and food needs cooking. Our ratty dog needs scraps of food. Basically, what I'm trying to say is that I've become a stay at home dad. Not my idea of a vocation, but important nonetheless.
It's strange to be here for another Christmas. Last year I came with the Christmas spirit following me from the states. Now it's different because the weather hasn't really changed. There are no snow flakes or brisk air to remind me of the season, and it all just feels kind of stange and out of place. Maybe this is how people living in Florida feel. I just want to bundle up and drink some eggnog. Next year I'll probably step out of the airport and want to just jumped right back on the plane to Nica.
Here in Nicaragua we recently celebrated La Purisima, which is a celebration of the Virgin Mary. The following pictures are from the celebrations we had at school. Every classroom sets up an altar like the one seen below and the kids sing songs praising la virgin. It was a really great day.

El Salvador

The past two weeks have been a total whirlwind. I want to tell you first about our year end retreat and then about my week in El Salvador. At the end of every year we have a retreat called reorientation—disorientation. The idea is to reorient first years as we become second years and to prepare the second years for the disorientation of returning to the US after two years abroad. We again went to La Garnacha up in the mountains of Estelí. The beauty of this place has never gotten old, even after three trips this past year. The retreat was a great time to reflect on the past year looking back on all that we’ve been through and at all the ways in which we have grown. I think more importantly it helped us look ahead to the coming year. There are lots of changes coming with our move to Ciudad Sandino and I needed a chance to regroup and prepare myself, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. I am really excited for the changes coming ahead. Our new volunteers are coming already on December 2^nd!

About a week ago I caught a bus to El Salvador. I went for the 10^th anniversary Casa de la Solidaridad reunion and also for the 20^th anniversary of the UCA martyrs. I got in a couple days early so I stayed with my friend Chris is working on a Fullbright in El Salvador. It was really great to see him and hear about the great work he is doing. I am so lucky to be surrounded by friends who are doing awesome and inspiring things. I am consistently amazed to hear about the things my friends are doing: living and working abroad, living in intentional communities, getting advanced degrees, medical school, teaching, government work, lobbying, volunteering, community organizing, and pretty much changing the world all over the place. Seeing so many old friends (and new ones) at the reunion was so great and much needed after almost a year without seeing so many of the people I know and love. It was almost like a dream having so many of them so close to me. When I left early yesterday morning I felt empty and so sad to leave them again.

A highlight of the week in El Salvador was returning to Tepecoyo where I spent a lot of time as a student, getting to know the community and also teaching English. After two and a half years without visiting I figured people would’ve forgotten me, but I was pleasantly surprised when kids not only remember me but my name as well. It floored me. I felt so grateful all day for everyone at my praxis site. If it hadn’t been for them I probably would never have done JVI and if it wasn’t for my year in Nicaragua I couldn’t have spoken Spanish with them as well as I did. Throughout the day with friends in Tepecoyo I realized I was able to share more and understand better anything I did my semester in El Salvador. Learning Spanish has continually opened my world to people, to better understand and really begin to know them.

Yesterday I arrived back in Managua, exhausted after 11 hours on a bus and about thirty minutes of sleep the night before. When I woke up at 5am this morning to go to work I thought I would go through the day just missing my friends who had also just left Salvador headed all over the world. However, on the bus I ran into my friend Yamil and we got to catch up and debrief a lot from the last week. Once at school I was attacked with hugs from kids wondering where I had been and they all told me they had missed me. Once again I was just filled with a sense of gratitude for all the people that love me and keep me going here: friends in El Salvador, Nicaragua, and the US. That’s an amazing support network. Les agradezco a todos y todas.

Finally I am left with something Trena, co-director of the Casa, told us at the reunion, “You only pass by this place once.” It’s something that she found important as a JV in Belize years ago and I think it’s true for everyone and especially for me right now. Now matter where you are in life it is unique and will never happen again in the exact same way. Over the past two weeks I had a chance to take stock of how far I’ve come over the past couple years and I am just so grateful. I hope over the next year I can really aprovechar like I have this past one.

Photos from the week:

Amilcar, Jose Luis, and I rocked out to some Salvadoran folk tunes in Tepecoyo.

Rodrigo and some other former students in Tepecoyo

Casa and Romero Program students creating an alfombra or "rug" at the UCA. These "rugs" are made out of dyed salt and are washed away at night by people walking through them during the vigil.


The finished alfombra


Belize and Nica JVs together at the UCA martyrs Vigil! Emily and Matt from PG, Belize, and Megan, Jenna, and me from Mangua.


Me, Allison, and Colin. Amig@s por siempre, pues sí.

Flooding in El Salvador

Dear Friends,

As many of you know there has recently been horrendous and deadly flooding in El Salvador. I am currently visiting San Salvador for the vigil of the UCA martyrs and reports of the devestation are coming in from all over the country. Casa alums have set up this website to facilitate collaboration from North America with the relief effort. NGOs and relief agencies have been slow to respond. If you can, please help.

http://friendsofsantamaria.blogspot.com/

Continuing Updates from Honduras

I recently went to a talk by two young American women who have been going back and forth between Nicaragua and Honduras as a solidarity presence to the people struggling after the overthrow of Manuel Zelaya. I really feel the call to share some of the information they shared with us about their firsthand experience, on the ground in Tegucigalpa. The media is doing a poor job at best on reporting from Honduras. At worse, there is deliberate media silence when it has come to many military and police abuses since the coup in June.

I will start where they started their story. They were present in Tegucigalpa when Zelaya returned on September 21st, taking refuge in the Brazilian embassy. That Monday at 4pm nationwide curfew was called and was not lifted until 10am on Wednesday. Many Hondurans live day to day on food bought in their neighborhoods and from markets. Because of the curfew people were calling in to radio stations reporting that for fear of arrest they could not leave their homes for food and their kids were going hungry. Also, as of Sept.21, Micheletti suspended all constitutional rights for 45 days as part of a national state of emergency plan. How can free and fair elections be held when months leading up to the election constitutional rights are being withheld by a questionably legal government?
Police and military repression has grown increasingly violent over the past months. The Brazilian embassy has been surrounded by the military. Psychological tactics have been used to coerce Zelaya out including, blaring loud music over the embassy walls, and setting up scaffolding over the walls to constantly observe. Snipers have been sighted keeping watch on the embassy. It has been assaulted with toxic tear gas. An eight year old girl in the surrounding neighborhood died in her home of asphyxiation from the gas used at the embassy by the police and military. Police have reportedly been using iron batons and wooden batons with nails in them. Both are illegal. Disappearances have become more common as resistance leaders have been identified by police and military. Prisoners have been beaten, tortured, and moved around the country thus making it difficult for family members and lawyers to find prisoners. Police are not only breaking up demonstrations but are pursuing protesters into neighborhoods and brutally beating them even after they've dispersed. One man was beaten as he carried his young daughter in his arms leaving a demonstration.

Who is protesting?
Most people I have talked to in the states think it is Zelaya supporters and leftists in the same camp as Chavez. Yes, there are some. However, as I've been informed the majority of protesters are women, indigenous, teachers, students, and lawyers groups. They are calling for a general overhaul of the constitution. Constitutionality is the priority, not Zelaya, not an international Leftist front. The resistance movement has been overwhelmingly peaceful. To date there has been no call to arms. This nonviolence resistance has made the brutal repression by police and military even more extreme and unjust.

Media Coverage
Micheletti has closed numerous radio and television stations who reported what was happening in the streets. Some have recently been reopened. However, these antidemocratic moves are very troubling especially if they plan on going through with elections in November.
Also, US coverage has been abysmal. For example, on Sept. 21st, while Zelaya was returning and military crackdown was underway, The Washington Post published an op-ed by Micheletti sighting the great progress and the strength of democracy in Honduras. The American public is not seeing truth. Not even in Nicaragua are we seeing what is really going on. I recommend this website for more information from the ground: http://www.narconews.com/

A Quintessential Couple O Weeks

So, the past few weeks have been good and busy. It was a quintessential couple weeks: surfing, the beach, work, buses, moto taxis, retreat, slacklining, and good ol JV community time. I think I'll start by just talking about the following pictures.
But first I have to mention something that I have no pictures of....which is a shame. Last week I was a judge in an English competition between a few schools near where I work, including Roberto Clemente. There were 25 groups and individuals singing songs in English. I was enlisted to judge pronuciation, intonation, security, and domain. Highlights included Three Little Birds by Bob Marley and Crank That by Solja Boy. The kid who sang Crank That actually did an amazing job and unanimously won between me and the two other judges. The actual event lasted over four hours and by the end I was exhausted. It was a really interesting cultural experience. The songs kids chose, and English songs that tend to be popular in Nicaragua, were from the 70s and 80s. Michael Jackson songs were definately a hit. (Not surprising to those close to me, they were not high scorers from the American judge. I tried to be unbiased but I can only listen to Thriller so many times.) At the end of the event, when I and the two other Nicaraguan judges tallied the scores I noticed our scores were sooo different. They scored the cheesy 70s songs really high and I scored the newer pop-ier songs higher. Since I speak English, they tended to just accept my scores and forget their own. This made me feel really uncomfortable because the kids were not being judged fair. I told them we should just tally the points and not guestimate like they were doing. I was saved by the bell because my ride home showed up and I had to leave. I gave them my scores and walked away hoping they would do what's right but also realizing it was out of my hands. It was so uncomfortable and a good example of unintended gringo priveledge.


This photo was taken from our patio after a rain storm. The view of the sky through our little window of razor wire is often the only natural beauty we get in the house and around Managua.

I went SURFING. Well, kind of, I tried. I went with friends Kelly and Joe (above). It was so great to get out of the house and head to the beach. It was even better because we drove in the pickup of a friend of theirs and I got to use the unofficial JV surfboard, which was left here by some backpackers a couple years ago.


This shot is of the community overlooking Lake Masaya. We took an overnight retreat at Flor de Pochote. It was really good to get out of the heat of Managua and relax a bit.

I love me some slackline.


Chritine and I washing our feet in the pila at Flor de Pochote after some intense barefooted slacklining adventures.

Loosen My Grip

Loosen My Grip
by Ted Loder

O God, it is hard for me to let go,
most times,
and the squeeze I exert
garbles me and gnarls others.
So, loosen my grip a bit
on the good times,
on the moments of sunlight and star shine and joy,
that the thousand graces they scatter as they pass
may nurture growth in me
rather than turn to brittle memories.

Loosen my grip
on those grudges and grievances
I hold so closely,
that I may risk exposing myself
to the spirit of forgiving and forgiveness
that changes things and resurrects dreams and courage.

Loosen my grip
on my fears
that I may be released a little into humility
and into an acceptance of my humanity.

Loosen my grip
on myself
that I may experience the freedom of a fool
who knows that to believe
is to see kingdoms, find power, sense glory;
to reach out
is to know myself held;
to laugh at myself
is to be in on the joke of your grace;
to attend to each moment
is to hear the faint melody of eternity;
to dare love
is to hear the wild flowers of heaven.

Loosen my grip
On my ways and words,
On my fears and fretfulness
that letting go
into the depths of silence
and my own uncharted longings,
I may find myself held by you
and linked anew to all life
in this wild and wondrous world
you love so much,
so I may take to heart
that you have taken me to heart.

Loder, Ted. Guerrilas of Grace. Innisfree Press, Inc: 1984, 48-49.

Loosening my grip has been harder than I ever imagined. A couple weeks ago I was held up in our sweltering house for a week with a fever, headache, and cough. Let’s say it was an unconfirmed case of the flu, H1N1, who knows? Regardless what we name it, it was awfully unpleasant. At the beginning of the week, sleeping all day and drinking copious amounts of water was no big deal. I had no other desires. Toward the third and fourth days I was starting to feel a little trapped, which is easy to do in our house where is reaches 100 degrees during the day and is enclosed with concrete and razor wire. Books saved me: Guerrillas of Grace, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, and most importantly The River Why. The prayer/poem Loosen My Grip really struck me when I was sick because I was so unable to let go, relax, and just let myself get better. I wanted to be better immediately. Why wait? I’m young, strong, intelligent, and couldn’t move more than to get to the bathroom and back. That was a hard realization. Reading The River Why was an incredible experience. I devoured the book, reading it in just two days. It brought out in me three things that I find key in my life: relationships, spirituality, and nature. It was an amazing and, for me, a life changing book.

It just started to rain. It hasn’t rained much this month. They say it’s El Niño that’s been causing the dry spell. In the words of Chris Farley, “El Niño is Spanish for, The Niño.” It sure is pouring right now. The temperature dropped about 15 degrees and the house is filled with the sound of the rain beating down on our tin roof. It is glorious. I need this cooling off before heading back to another week of work. I feel refreshed. (By the way, is there a hurricane coming through Central America because it is really raining!)

When Windshields Explode

Who knew that windshields could just spontaneously explode? I sure didn't. This weekend is a holiday weekend here in Nica. The 14th and 15th are yearly celebrations of Central American and Nicaraguan independence respectively. Yesterday, Megan and I were hitching a ride with friends up to Esteli with plans of continuing up to Somoto to do some hiking and more than anything retreat from the grind of Managuan life. Not half an hour outside of Managua the entire windshield exploded with a loud pop. We couldn't see anything through the spiderweb of splintered glass. After pulling over, Megan entertained the 2 and 5 year old kids in the car while Andrew, Fabien, and I picked glass from the front seats and the hole left by the glass. After waiting for about two hours in the midday sun a friend of theirs picked up Fabien, the kids, and Megan. Andrew and I drove the car back to their house in Managua, never getting over 25 mph. I was worried about inhaling glass dust and particles so I wore sunglasses and a bandit-style red bandanna over my mouth. We looked ridiculous driving through Managua with the front windshield completely gone. Once I finally got home I was exhausted and my slight cough that I woke up with had moved down into my chest. I had a fever of 100 and chills all evening. What a great way to spend vacation! Not. So much for mountains. Luckily they aren't going anywhere; nor am I.

Here is one of my new favorite bands, The Avett Brothers. I hope you enjoy em.

Take care and if anyone can explain to me how and why a windshield would spontaneously explode please let me know.
Also, any good music? Pass it my way! Thanks!

Being Different

This post is primarily in response to Monica's question posted in July about being a minority in Nicaragua.
It's an interesting question because I experience different things because of my white skin. Most people seeing me for the first time assume I am a tourist or working for an NGO. I am often called "Gringo" or "Chele" in the street. The term Gringo only refers to people from the US and it's funny because there are many white people here who are not from the US but are called Gringos regardless. Also, there are many lightskinned Nicaraguans who are called Chele as well. It just means white. It's very common here to refer to a stranger by their skin tone: negro (dark or black), moreno (tan or mestizo), and chele (white). There is a common perception, and not unfounded, that white people have money. This creates certain security concerns. I personally have not had any problems. Sometimes I completely forget that I stand out so much. I take the same bus everyday so I see many of the same people along the way. I don't stand out so much. I carry a very common bootleg Jansport backpack that is ripping and dirty and mind my own business. A couple times cobradores (fair collectors) have tried to rip me off on the bus. They try to take advantage by assuming I don't know the bus fare, thus overcharging me. I always check the price beforehand and know better than to be taken advantage of.
More than discrimination I experience white privilege. At work I'm not a normal teacher. I can take off when I need to. I live simply on my $40 per month stipend, but I also have a bank account and a family in the United States. I don't think I actively exercise my privilege, but it's a reality of life here. People just assume I have tons of money, regardless whether they want to steal it or sell me something. The level of discrimination I experience here is absolutely nothing in comparison to that experienced by minorities in the US. I even hesitate calling what I experience here discrimination. But I certainly am different.

Un Dia en la Vida

Last night for Spirituality Night we spent some time writing our stories from the day. I thought I´d take the time to share it with you--un dia en la vida.

I woke up this morning at 6:40am. I layed in bed for four minutes thinking about how I really did not want to get up. I finally got up and went to the bathroom. Breakfast was disappointing--oatmeal again. I miss eggs. We ran out on Monday and we haven´t had peanut butter in months. I took the 120 ruta to Casa Ben Lindner. I got the first bus that pulled up. Usually I end up waiting because they are too full and sometimes do not even stop. I arrived early so I pulled out Heart of Darkness and read for awhile. Two cooperatives came to share what they do. Some cultivate land while others run a sewing shop. No one I knew well was at Ben Lindner so I bounced out of there as soon as it was finished. I went straight to work via the 110 and then the 210. I got to work around 11am and was immediately sent to sub for a sixth grade class. I went in with lots of energy and a cool activity in mind. They were not having it. The teacher left no work for them so they were running around and thowing balls of paper everywhere. I then laid down the law, took a couple kids outside to chat, and put things back in order--momentarlily at least. I do not like being a hardass but sometimes it is necessary.

After class I was standing around chatting with some older high school students when I saw a hoard of kids rushing away and circling two kids fighting and rolling around on the ground. I rushed over pushing kids out of the way and grabbed one of the boys under his arms and lifted him clear off the other. He was kicking and screaming, calling the other boy a piece of mierda. I told him to calm down and take a deep breathe. My heart was racing with exhilaration. It felt like a scene from Dangerous Minds.

After I took a minute to calm down I practiced guitar with Fabiola, a senior, and a great student. I am teaching her the song I´m Yours by Jason Mraz and she in return is teaching me some Nicaraguan folk music. I ate rice, beans, and a little speghetti for lunch. I drank some Big Roja pop. Only one kid showed up for English tutoring. He wanted to practice reading English and the only book I had on me was Heart of Darkness. So, he slowly read through a couple paragraphs and we called it quits. I give him credit; it´s not the easiest read.

I came home an hour early. I stared out the window the entire way home. I was bored. When I got home Megan and I went to Papy´s for beer and converastion. I took a cold shower. I layed in the hammock with Jenna. We ate dinner--rice, beans, beets, and bread. I dried the dishes. We had spirituality night and then I went to bed at 9pm. That´s pretty much it. A day in the life.

Turning 24

Not that this was my first birthday away from home, but I was expecting it to be strange or an emotionally nostalgic time. In fact, it was one the best birthdays on the books. My community woke me up to singing Las Mañanitas and Michael made me breakfast. School was so much fun. Kids sang to me and wished me felicidades. In the afternoon I went to the movies with some coworkers. They bought me fried chicken and we saw The Hunting Party. In the evening we sat on our patio eating pizza from the neighborhood, sipped some cold beer, and got to talk to folks back home. Perfect. On Friday we had a bunch of friends over from work and other places. This happened to correspond to a great annual festival that is held just a block from our house. The festival is called Santo Domingo, and Friday night was the Palo Lucio. Imagine a huge telephone pole lubed up with pig fat and young men standing on each other trying to reach the top. We only saw them get about three people high, but even that was impressive considering how much guaro they had likely drunk, not to mention the tweeked out glue sniffing kids who were not helping the endevour. Apparently there is a great prize for however reaches the top. Buena suerte... It was an exciting and fun way to continue celebrating my birthday. For the record, despite insistent baggering, Michael nor I climbed the pole. Maybe next year.

The Ordinary

After a recent blog entry a good friend from college, Lisa, asked me something like, “What about the normal stuff?” Good question. I often write about the extraordinary goings on in my life, leaving out the smaller details or the day-to-day consolations and desolations. I appreciated Lisa’s comment, not only because she’s one of the best young writers I know, but also because it’s given me reason to reflect on the everyday things of life as a volunteer in Nicaragua.

Before I get into some of the heavy things I’d like to talk about some everyday consolations. Almost every morning I have an hour commute from Managua to Ciudad Sandino. The bus leaves Managua and heads out into the countryside. The air on leaving the city is cool and I always find the ride a peaceful and quiet time to wake up or even catch a few more seconds of sleep while bouncing down the road. I also have grown fond of my work, especially the small moments with my students outside of class. I love the times we have to sit and chat or play a game of basketball after class. In the afternoons I have been tutoring high school kids in English. I have small classes of about five to ten students. I keep the class well occupied and busy with fun games and activities. A favorite was last week when I brought in a bunch of old magazines and the students cut out pictures of clothes and then taped them on the board with their English names. They loved just looking at and reading American magazines. I also have to note the culinary joys of life in Nica. For example, helados, known to many as ice cream are much different here. They are small fruit juice ices, much like popsicles, that are frozen in little bags and sold for one Cordoba a piece, or five cents. Also, I have found a true appreciation for fritanga which is mostly fried food, enchiladas, tacos, cheese, gallo pinto, or any number of grilled meats. All this is sold from a house in our neighborhood and I can get more than enough to eat for less than two dollars. We eat there every Friday night as a community. I also really appreciate the beauty of Nicaragua that has bloomed with the coming of the rainy season. New flowers are blooming that I’ve seen and everything is green and bright.

On a heavier note things here can get sad, lonely, and depressing. Some days poverty here is overwhelming. When my kids come to school every morning they are well dressed in their pressed uniforms. They may look cute and happy but I know many of them come to school hungry or come from homes where parents are fighting, fathers are worthless drunks, parents are living in the US or Costa Rica, or any number of other things that keep my students from being as happy and fulfilled as they actually look. There are also any number of things that just wear me down day-to-day. Buses are fine, but not to be romanticized. They are hot, crowded, and prime spots for pickpockets. Gracias a Dios I haven't been pick pocketed (knock on wood). Another thing that gets me down is that we always have mice in our house.They get into everything. Also occassional rat shows it's dirty rotten face in my bedroom--nothing out of the ordinary. Life in community is great but it has been challenging getting out of the house, meeting other people, and doing stuff on my own. My lack of independence can take it's toll leaving me grumpy and forelorn.

I've had a few moments over the past few months, reality checks if you will, when I stop and think back at my pre-JVC self. I think about my thoughts and dreams about being a JV and what it might be like. Life as a foreign volunteer is often very romanticized. It's not all about saving the world and changing social inequalities. It's hot, tiring, fulfilling, exciting and boring...there are ups and downs, and ultimately it is just about living life. This is my life: the extraordinary and the very ordinary.

If you have questions or good blog topics I'd love to hear them. Sometimes I struggle with what to write and so would love some feedback!

19 de Julio

¡Viva la Revolución!

30 years ago the Somoza dictatorship was overthrown by a popular uprising led by the Sandinista National Liberation Front (FSLN). Yesterday in the plaza a crowd of thousands gathered to celebrate the thirtieth anniversary of the revolution. It was an amazing turnout. Yesterday morning we boarded a Sandinista bus in our neighborhood headed to the plaza. As we stepped on board we were given red and black flags and took our seats. We didn’t know whether to give our flags away or fly them out the window like everyone else on the bus. It’s a fine line between observing a cultural and political manifestation and participating in it. We wanted to observe and be with our friends while keeping a healthy distance from aligning ourselves with either the Sandinistas or any opposition group. Back to the bus ride—our bus joined an enormous caravan of buses headed down to the plaza. The bus in front of us was laden with people hanging out windows and about twenty people were sitting on top waving the red and black flags. As it was rounding a bend a young man fell off the roof and violently hit the ground. The police were on the scene in mere minutes and then the caravan kept moving toward the plaza. Just a little background about Nicaraguan politics, Daniel Ortega was president during the revolutionary years of the eighties and is the current president. Sandinistas make up about 35% of the electorate with other minor parties filling in the other 65%. On July 19^th it seemed like everyone was a Sandinista. Daniel Ortega spoke along with other speakers including Rigoberta Menchú, and states people from Honduras and Venezuela. We were a little disappointed that neither Mel Zelaya nor Hugo Chavez showed up. There were many political songs played, some made us feel a little uncomfortable. A good example was the song: “El Yanqui se va joder” or “The Yankee’s gonna get screwed.” There was a lot of anti-American sentiment in the speeches, especially from the Venezuelan representative. At one point a drunken guy leaned over to us and asked if we were Canadian. Michael immediately said, “YES!” We were definitely all Canadians yesterday. I never felt particularly unsafe but there were certainly moments when I felt uncomfortable.

Check out some of these great of the day from the BBC. We were smack dab in the middle of all those people! If you can find us you get a prize! http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/8158477.stm

Scorpions, Tarantulas, and Monkeys, Oh My!

This morning we returned from retreat at Laguna de Apoyo. The Jesuit community lent us their beautiful retreat house mere feet from a pristine volcanic lake. The retreat was much needed by all. Our theme was the life and mission of Jesus—past and present. It was a great opportunity to reflect on our lives here and juxtapose them a bit with the life of Jesus. Michael’s session focused on revolutionary figures and the revolutionary Christ. I really appreciated the session because it reminded me of the revolutionary teachings of Christ and the need to step out of my own status quo, especially a call to live with radical love. So often here I get stuck in a rut: work, eat, sleep, work, wash clothes, work, etc. This quickly becomes mundane. This retreat was a good reminder to live the life I have chosen as a Jesuit Volunteer—to live in community, to live simply, to live spiritually, and to live out social justice. This last pillar of our community can often be the trickiest to define, but it is really at the heart of Jesus’ mission. Jesus was a radical dude and no matter if I’m living in the States or here I often need an occasional reminder to jar me out of my daily routine, to remind me of who I want to be and how I want to live.

Oh and I almost forgot, where we were staying was pura selva salvaje or an entirely wild jungle. We fell asleep to howler monkeys bellowing and woke every morning to parrots chattering. On the freakier side we found a hairy tarantula and Christine found a nasty scorpion in her jeans (unfortunately only after putting them on! Ouch!). Despite the incessant mosquitoes and the occasional creepy crawly, the house and lake were so beautiful. I sound like a broken record, but any and every occasion to get out of Managua is such a blessing. The heat and treeless urban setting can become oppressive. Nicaragua is such a mind-blowingly beautiful country, especially now that the rains have swept in making everything so bright, green, and alive.

Solidarity with the people of Honduras

I don't know what kind of news coverage the situation in Honduras is receiving in the states, but here it is big news. It's like the eighties all over again. I thought Central America was past military coups. Honduras, our northern neighbor is closer than you can imagine and the thought of the region becoming militarized again is frightening. According to CNN, the military-backed government claims that Nicaragua is sending troops to the border. The Nicaraguan government is denying such claims. Many of you who know me well, or even those who don't, may know about my almost yearly pilgrimage to the gates of Ft. Benning, Georgia to protest the Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Cooperation (WHINSEC, formally known as the School of the Americas). The coup in Honduras was led by graduates of the school. Click here for more information from the SOA Watch movement. They have good up to date information about the goings on in Honduras. Our good friend Fr. Joe Mulligan S.J. is headed to Honduras to represent the SOA Watch movement and to stand in solidarity with the people of Honduras. Please keep him and nuestros hermanos y hermanas hondureños in your thoughts and prayers.

On a lighter and more personal note...
We just celebrated Christine's 23rd birthday at the beach! ¡Feliz cumpleaños!

Día del Maestro Nicaragüense.

With much mystery and anticipation I have arrived at the celebrations of the “Day of the Nicaraguan Teacher.” The last two days have been so much fun. Thursday of this week we had a school-wide celebration to celebrate all the teachers at school. It was put on by the administrators and student council. On arriving to school all the teachers met at the technical workshops across the street from the main school buildings. We were then personally escorted over to the main school by sharply dressed students. As we walked in we were met with a standing ovation of over 1400 students and parents. It was slightly overwhelming. But, I must say, much less so than when I first got here. There were cultural acts including: dances, poems, rapping, and singing. There were also games for the teachers to win prizes. I won an obnoxiously bright bag with sea creatures all over it. After the assembly the students dispersed to their classrooms where they had prepared parties for their teachers. Since a handful of us teachers don’t have our own classes we walked around, danced to bumping music, drank pop, and ate tons of food. Nicaraguans love to dance. Many of the classrooms had huge stereo systems set up with speakers loud enough to fill a gymnasium. Everyone danced till they were made to leave. It was so hot. Everyone was sweating. And no one cared.

Jamil, Dora, and me



Traditional dances and Palo de Mayo




On Friday all the teachers, administrators, and grounds grew (60+ staff) piled into a school bus and headed to the beach at Masachapa a little over an hour away. Fe y Alegría hosted all the teachers from their 20 plus schools from all over the country at a beautiful beach resort for a day of fun and recreation. We were each given fruit and pop and we ate huge fried fish for lunch. The ocean water was really warm and the crystal clear pool was refreshing and bright. It was really good to get out of Managua and to share something fun with my coworkers. I had a slow start getting to know them and making connections. However, yesterday was a really good indicator of how far I’ve come in settling in and making friends. I was able to chat with some, share a drink with others, and just splash and dance with others in the pool. At the peak of low tide my friend Jamil and I walked out on some rocks to where some local boys were fishing off a rock shelf. I saw one boy pull up an eight inch unidentifiable fish using only a small spool of line running through his calloused hands. It was pretty impressive.

Fish!


Jamil under water

A local kids fishs

Bus Ride!

Fiesta bajo el agua

It’s strange to think about July 4^th being next weekend. Changing seasons don’t connect with me here. I forget what people are doing back home. It’s strange to think that many of my friends just graduated from college last month and that a year ago at this time I was making my way across the country on an epic West Coast road trip. This blog is officially over a year old now. I’ve come a long way in just one year. Here’s to the next one! Cheers!

Short update

So, I haven´t prepared an extensive update although it is long overdue. However, I wanted to say that things at work are looking up. Today I started tutoring kids in English in the afternoon. They are mostly in their first year of English so it is slow going. I like being able to have my own class with no more than 10 or 12 kids at a time. A couple of kids started to get out of line and start a ruckus, but I layed down the law. I told a kid to leave and from then on they were angels. This whole teaching thing is feeling better and better, especially when they aren´t five years old.
In other news we just said good-bye to an ex-volunteer, Josh. He came to visit us for an extended weekend here in Managua. Let me just say that he is ALWAYS welcome back. It was nice to have another guy in the house. We shared great stories and luxuriated in delicious food provided by our guest. It was great. Thanks Josh!
Coming up this week: We will be meeting with a delegation from Cincinnati this Thursday night and translating for them on Saturday over an organized dinner party. I will write more about developments at school as well as a new book I´m reading. Ciao

Thoughts on a Wednesday

Mid-week update from Managua.

The rainy season is shaping up to be wet, humid, and yes, still hot.
Big news from Ciudad Sandino: the government is paving the road down toward my school. It will be nice to walk on but currently looks like a war zone.
Buzzed hair is a gift from Dios.
I have been downloading podcasts from All Songs Considered. They are great and eclectic morsels of music that I miss so much.
Will beans for every meal of the day get old? You would think so. But, no, they don't.
Getting hugs and greetings from kids all the time at school is still not old. I love it, especially when I don't have to be dictator of the class room.

The Flood

A coworker of Michael and Amber swears the rainy season always begins officially on May 22^nd. That is the day that every year the rain begins. This year was no different. Friday night we were inundated with lightning, thunder, and more rain than a Midwesterner could imagine. I’ve seen rain, lots of it. I’ve slept in it, sung in it, danced in it, and I’d never seen rain this. We were visiting friends, Joe and Kelly, when the rain started and lasted a few hours. The road flooded and Joe set out about 6 buckets under leaks in the roof to catch the dripping sometimes streaming water. When we got home around 11pm we found our whole street dark and wet. The power was out everywhere. I stepped through the doorway into a huge puddle of water. Apparently the patio in the back had flooded. Most of the house had been filled with two to four inches of water. Amber was the only one home that evening. She did what she could to save stuff on the floor: laptops, guitars, books, etc. Not everything could be saved and everything was hot and damp. The power didn’t come on until midday on Saturday. That night was one of the muggiest, stickiest, grossest nights of sleep...ever. My bed was wet from water dripping from the roof. The temperature all night never dropped below the upper 70s or lower 80s. It was so humid that my sweat saturated everything and glistened in the middle of night. I devoted most of Saturday to cleaning and drying. Oh, and I almost forgot, the rain must have agitated the creepy crawly inhabitants in the house. In the middle of the night I woke to Michael yelling because a mouse fell on him from the rafter above his head. Gross. It was the night from hell. Luckily, everything is basically back to normal, still hot and humid, but under control. We also unclogged the blockage in the drain. No more floods—I hope.

In other news, things at work last week were really good. I started taking the first graders to the computer lab instead of staying with them in the class room. This is way easier for me because the lab teacher is in charge and all I have to do is help and watch the kids. Also, I started helping the phys ed. teacher coach volleyball. As you’ve probably realized from previous posts, I don’t feel particularly qualified for this position. However, it’s been really good to work side by side with my Nicaraguan coworker instead of coaching alone. The kids I’m meeting too are really great. I have had really good conversations with them and am building confianza with them. (Confianza means trust but also a sense of comfort, closeness, and mutual respect.)

This weekend is shaping out to be pretty low key. My stipend was exhausted early this month so I’ve been laying low and relaxing at home. This morning I watched one of my favorite movies, A River Runs Through It. I recently read an article about a new movie coming out that reminds me on of A River Runs Through It, called The River Way. I’m interested in reading the book. Have any of you read it? I recently read Angela’s Ashes and ‘Tis both by Frank McCourt. Currently I am reading Middlesex. I’m about 100 pages in and find the descriptive prose to be poetic and very imaginative.

Happy Mother´s Day!

This post is dedicated to my mom on the occasion of Mother’s Day. Here in Nicaragua Mother’s Day is celebrated later in the month, the 30^th I believe. But in actuality the whole month of May should be for mothers because they are so damn great. The other day I was talking to mom and she asked me to blog about directions in Nicaragua. Let me explain. So I’ve been told, after The Earthquake in the 70s or 80s (I don’t remember) Managua was almost completely destroyed. The city was built back up but no one bothered renaming the streets. Some say the U2 song, Where the Streets Have No Name, refers to Managua. So, having no street names makes giving directions a little more complicated. Good luck using Google maps here. For example, my address is from the Cristo Rey rotunda, two blocks south, and half a block down. Then when you get half a block down you look for the second green house on the right or just go house to house asking where the gringos live. The cardinal directions here in Managua are a little different too. North, south, east, and west are known as al lago, al sur, arriba, and abajo (to the lake, to the south, up, and down). Lake Managua is north of the city, south is still south, and up and down refer to the sun going up and down, east to west. It took a little getting used to and I have to constantly reorient myself wherever I go in the city. Sometimes directions are incredibly long or are given from a landmark that doesn’t even exist. For example, some directions are like three blocks toward the lake from where this restaurant used to be then two blocks up.

In other news…Work has been up and down. I suppose that’s not really news but has come to be common knowledge. It’s really tough working with the little kids. The first and second graders are wild and nunca no me hacen caso. My soccer and baseball afternoons have petered out. No one really comes anymore. One little fourth grade kid still comes almost everyday. He lives around the corner from school and I think he’s just really bored and looking for something to do. He follows me around and sits near me while I read my book at lunch. Sometimes it’s really endearing and other times it’s just annoying. I have started helping out the phys ed. teacher who is coaching volleyball in the afternoons. It has been good to actually accompany someone in their work, to learn from them, and be able to ask questions. So often at work I’m put into a situation empty handed and unsupported and expected to make things work. I usually do alright but I don’t think the students nor I particularly thrive in these situations. One surprising thing is that the kids, when I’m not in class with them, love me. They attack me with hugs and salutations. I am often self-conscious because I’ll be walking by a class and kids will yell out the window to me. Sometimes I feel more like a distraction than a help.

The Day the Music Died

Last night I had a test of detachment. I was fiddling around with my ipod and out of ignorance I accidentally synced my ipod with my computer and erased almost all of my music. I couldn’t believe it. I had spent years collecting this music. I had over 7,000 songs from friends all over the world—all gone. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

In light of this I have invited myself to take a step back and take the long view. This is not the end of the world and it gives me good reason to look at my life a little bit. I live here in Nicaragua and am confronted with realities of poverty everyday. That doesn’t mean I actually see it. For sure it’s always there but I don’t always choose to keep my eyes, ears, and heart open to it. I am reminded of a short story I read in college by Flannery O’Conner: A Good Man is Hard to Find. In the story, as in many of her stories, she uses violence as a catalyst for her character’s dynamic growth, and more importantly for grace to enter their lives—to experience metanoia, personal change, realization, or enlightenment.

Poverty is violence, and so if my life were like an O’Conner short story I would be changing and growing daily. But truthfully, I feel like I can get stuck or numbed by the day to day violence of poverty.

There are some days when it hits me hard. I can’t ignore nor forget certain imagines burned into my memory. Last week I was walking from my house to Metro Centro to catch my bus to Ciudad Sandino. It was 6:05AM. I went to cross the street and saw out of the corner of my eye a homeless man. Actually, all I could see was his bare ass and him wiping himself. It shocked me. What brings a man to defecate like that out in the open? That same day, on arriving to Ciudad Sandino, I was walking from the bus to school and saw two more things that shocked me. I’m sure you’re all familiar with the Save the Children ads on TV showing images of dirty naked children looking for your daily donation of 60 cents. I think one of those kids lives near my school. He stood by the road wearing nothing but a dirty cloth diaper, and his little hands clutching barbed wire. He looked up at me with red expressionless eyes. On the next block a group of four or five shirtless and raggedy men were sitting around on the ground passing a bottle of Guaro or cheap dirty liquor. A bottle of this stuff goes for about 2 dollars a pop and even the cheapest and most desperate college freshmen would turn their noses up at the stuff. These men were getting drunk at 7AM as their kids were heading to school and their wives and girlfriends to work. When I left school at 4PM they were still where I left them.

These experiences are not unique to this one day. There was something about the concentration of the events, all happening within an hour, that shocked me out of my stasis. It’s not easy to see suffering like this on a daily basis but it certainly puts my ipod woes into perspective. I hope I never become too accustomed or dulled to the realities around me, but perhaps I can use these experiences as catalysts for personal growth, enlightenment, and metanoia.