Coming to a close

Today was my last day of work at Proyecto Generando Vida in Barrio El Recreo. In five days, I will be well on my way back home. I have not had much time to stop and reflect. For weeks now, I have been saying goodbye to bank women and casual acquaintances, but today was the first time that the reality of it all set in. I worked my butt off (“me puse a las pilas”) until 3pm, leaving two hours at the end of the day to say goodbye to the Project, the Bank program, El Recreo, and my coworkers. After finishing at 3pm, I sat in the garden under some trees blowing in the wind, and contemplated my conclusion of two years working at this community center. I felt happy and proud for the work that I’ve accomplished, the struggles I’ve overcome, and the relationships I’ve built. At the same time, I felt like the Project had become a part of me, and I would feel a sense of loss to leave it behind.

Anyway, I took a few deep breaths in the garden, and made my way through the Casa de la Mujer (the house in which I worked), saying goodbye to the office, the beautiful mural, and the room that twelve times a week is filled with 30 loving and hard-working women. I walked across the street to the Project itself, where I knew some sort of going away party awaited me. I entered the open-air auditorium, filled by my coworkers and favorite bank women, and was admittedly emotionally overwhelmed with the knowledge that “this is it, I actually have to say goodbye”. The party was better than I could have ever imagined. There were icebreakers, prayers and poems, games, dancing, kind words, gifts, crying, laughing, songs, hugs, and food. The best part was joking around with the bank women one last time and finding any excuse to dance (particularly solo while playing pin the tail on the donkey). I was showered with gifts; cologne, shirts, food, underwear, and soap, among others. They’re very practical and in to hygiene here. All in all it was a wonderful way to say goodbye to the place and the people that have defined two years of my life. I went home with tears in my eyes but a smile on my face!

My last few days in Nicaragua will hold; a well known and respected annual raging party at our house, goodbyes to neighborhood friends, a dinner out with a few close coworkers, and some time with my community (which is currently 10 with the arrival of four new Jesuit Volunteers). I hope to have more time to reflect and to recap what my time as a JV has meant to me. I suppose blog entries are a good way to do that. From what I’ve heard, the most important questions one can ask while transitioning out of a host culture and into a home culture are twofold: What will I take with me, and what will I leave behind? My responses to these questions are extensive, and they will no doubt develop over time. But for now I hope to take with me (or to never forget): the love and support of community, the inspiration of people working to improve the lives of their neighbors (as seen in the Project), the hospitality to strangers and friends alike, the spirit of revolution and resistance to oppression, the music (on CD), the music (on my guitar), the mind-opening experience of seeing the world through the eyes of another culture, memories and phone numbers of my friends, and pictures. I hope to leave behind the turmoil of culture shock, stress, dengue, and the smell of burning trash.

As I begin my transition back into the United States, I hope to rest, see friends and family, share pictures and stories from my time here, and find a job. I’m just now starting to catch my breath as I finish the marathon of work at the Project. I have a lot of thinking, writing, catching up, and sharing of my experience ahead of me.
Specifically, I plan to share about my time in Nicaragua in the form of a presentation/potluck sometime in January in Seattle. If you will be in the Seattle area at any point in January and might be interested in coming, please email me at michael.marchesini@gmail.com with a message as short as “I’m interested”. That way I can email those interested with information on time and place.

Thanks for reading and accompanying me in my Jesuit Volunteer experience in Nicaragua. Enjoy a few pictures from my going away party below.


Silvio (my coworker and supervisor) giving some opening words at the going away party


Bank women in a folkloric dance competition


Silvio cracking up


My response to bank women and coworkers chanting "dance! dance! dance!" while trying to pin the tail on the donkey


Singing a song called "Amigo"


The bank team! Silvia (the newest member) reading a poem

The Pinecone

On the final night of my last retreat as a Jesuit Volunteer in Nicaragua, we all held pinecones in our hands and contemplated their metaphorical significance to our time here. My friend Patrick the Eagle Scout explained to the rest of us that a pinecone can germinate only after passing through fire. I pictured a forest fire and the new pine trees that bursts forth from the ashes. I imagined dead trees, rotting and laying the foundation for young plants and mosses. Then I started thinking about the history of humanity and the world, about meteors hitting the earth, ice ages, floods, and all the new life that commenced after the destruction. A lot of religions speak to this cycle of death and rebirth, whether it is called reincarnation or resurrection. I think they are on to something. And I think that some of the most complex truths of the universe and of our lives are reflected in something as simple as a pinecone.

So I thought about the roaring fire that destroys a forest and the germination of a pinecone that follows. Over the course of 23 months of living in Nicaragua I have experienced proverbial forest fires of culture shock, homesickness, teaching, and dengue, among others. And after each fire, after experiencing a little bit of personal destruction, something inside me grew. From the charred remains of a forest sprouted bright green, tiny saplings.

And so it will be as I approach my transition from Nicaragua back to the United States. In 40 days I will be at home in Seattle. From the reflection sessions that we did on our final five day retreat (dubbed ReO-DisO), I gathered that returning home will be no walk in the park. I have a deep bond with this country and it will be very hard to leave. But I expect that much like all the trials of adapting to a new life in Nicaragua, the challenges of “re-entry” will be life giving in the long run. In our modern society we’ve come to demonize forest fires. But they are nature’s way of purifying itself and preparing fertile ground for new life.

That being said, I look forward to another 40 days in Nicaragua, AND I look forward to coming home on December 16. I figure there’s no point in fretting over leaving Nicaragua, nor in holding my breath until I finally get home. I’m here physically, so I might as well be here mentally and emotionally. Same goes for coming home in December. I hope that my remaining time here is an opportunity for me to say goodbye to beloved people and places, and I hope to be ready to return home when the time comes.




Reflection session during our ReODisO retreat in La Garnacha, in the mountains of northern Nicaragua.


The male representatives of JVC Nicaragua


Rain-soked clothing at our cabin in La Garnacha. In the final 20 minutes of our 6 hour trip to La Garnacha we trekked through a deluge of rain, soaking the majority of our warm clothes


Meet Abigail, arguably the most adorable child in the El Recreo neighborhood


Two of my best friends among the bank women, Guadalupe and Esperanza

Political soap operas

Disclaimer:

This blog entry is a commentary on Nicaraguan and Honduran politics. It is my interpretation of the facts, and it is bound to have a bias. Those with a different political ideology (such as Nicaraguan state security or the Central Intelligence Agency, for example) might have a different take on the current events discussed on this blog. I have my opinions and they have theirs. This is a practice in freedom of speech. Oh, and this blog in no way reflects the views of the Jesuit Volunteer Corps.

Nicaragua: The Politics of Taking to the Streets

Background: Daniel Ortega IS the Sandinista party in Nicaragua. Since its inception as a political party, Ortega has been its presidential candidate in every election, and he has been the secretary general of the party in between elections. After losing elections in 1990, 1996, and 2001, Ortega did some political arm-twisting to change the constitution to allow a candidate to be elected president with only 35% of the popular vote. This allowed him to win the presidency in 2006 with 38% of the vote. The Nicaraguan constitution states that a president can serve only one term; in other words it is unconstitutional in Nicaragua for a president to run for re-election. Thus Ortega is constitutionally obligated to step down from power in 2011.

Currently: A little over a week ago the Supreme Court of Nicaragua convened a sudden constitutional convention, and voted that it is unconstitutional to NOT allow a president to run for a second term, i.e. giving Ortega the go ahead to run for re-election. The scandal is twofold: First and foremost, this “constitutional convention” was convened at an odd hour when most of the opposition judges happened to be out of the office. So, supposedly by coincidence, the only Supreme Court justices who were around to vote on the issue of presidential re-election were themselves Sandinista and supporters of Ortega. Second: Many question whether or not the Supreme Court has the authority to deem a clause of the constitution “unconstitutional”. For if it is in the original constitution, is it not by definition constitutional? But the deed is done, and Ortega will probably be running for re-election in 2011.

Opposition groups were gearing up to protest in the streets, but hoards of Ortega supporters got to the streets first in a sort of preemptive counter-protest. Sandinista counter-protestors now flood a lot of major intersections and rotundas, blaring old revolutionary hymns from speakers mounted in the backs of pickup trucks and dancing and waving Sandinista flags in celebration. And as I write this a friend is telling me that the U.S. Ambassador to Nicaragua, Mr. Callahan, publicly condemned the recent Supreme Court vote, and as a result Sandinista supporters began protesting in front of the U.S. embassy. I’m considering getting a t-shirt custom made that says “I’m not with Callahan.”

Now for clarification: I may sound critical of Ortega, and perhaps I am. Yet I think that his opposition would do far more heinous crimes to Nicaragua if they were in power. If I sound critical of Ortega, it is not out of support for his opposition but rather concern for the average Nicaraguan and the health of their country.

In other news, university students are burning tires in the streets. The government is constitutionally bound to set aside 6% of the national budget for scholarships and other forms of assistance to college students. Yet the budget has been slashed recently, and the students are irate. As a result, during the day the roads in front of the major universities are impassable because of heaps of burning tires and debris and rock-wielding college students.



Honduras: The Awkward Limbo of Coup

On June 28, if I remember correctly, 300 Honduran soldiers stormed the presidential palace, arrested President Zelaya, and sent him on a plane to exile in Costa Rica. The claim was that he had violated the constitution by proposing a popular vote for or against a constitutional referendum that, it was argued, would end up allowing Zelaya to run for re-election indefinitely. So the chief justice of the Supreme Court sent a memo to the head of the army and told him to arrest Zelaya and send him into exile.

The action was condemned unanimously by the international community, and the de facto President of Honduras, Michelleti, is recognized as legitimate by no one. The U.S. has cut off all military and economic aid, as has all of Europe. The Michelleti government has since cracked down on all civil liberties, and today Honduras continues to live in a virtual state of martial law. There is no free press, as all opposition newspapers and radio stations have been shut down. Opposition leaders are frequently arrested and beaten, and protestors in the streets are met with violent repression by the military.

Some suggest that Zelaya was not overthrown simply for breaking the constitutional rules, but rather for more complex reasons. In Honduras the two main political parties are both fairly right-wing. When Zelaya was elected he was fairly conservative (in the U.S. sense of the word), but in the last few years he has moved sharply toward the left and allied himself with people like Chavez of Venezuela and Morales of Bolivia. In Honduras most politicians, media outlets, and business people are quite conservative. So the theory goes that these conservative elements in Honduras were growing very uneasy with Zelaya´s new leftist policies, and they decided he needed to go. His attempted tweaking of the constitution was a good enough excuse, so they jumped on the opportunity to give him the boot.

In terms of U.S. involvement in the coup, it is known that the head of the Honduran military and the man who oversaw the ousting of Zelaya, General Velasquez, was trained at Ft. Benning, Georgia at the School of the Americas/ WHINSEC. The school at Ft. Benning has a reputation for training Latin American officers in fairly undemocratic actions such as overthrowing elected governments and arresting and torturing civilians. It is also known to facilitate contacts and friendships between Latin American military officers and people at the Defense Department and CIA. Some speculate that the CIA was directly involved in the recent coup, but there is no evidence to support that. There is, however, a motive (communicating a stern warning to leftist leaders in Latin America) and record of prior offenses (coups in Guatemala, Iran, Congo, Chile, Venezuela, etc.) to point a suspicious finger toward the CIA.

Currently Honduras remains in a state of repression, and all constitutional rights remain suspended indefinitely. Zelaya snuck back into Honduras and took refuge at the Brazilian embassy in Tegucigalpa. There he is engaged in negotiations with people representing the Michelleti government. The embassy is surrounded by the Honduran military. Large speakers placed up against the embassy walls blast heavy metal music day and night in an attempt to make Zelaya go crazy and leave, and occasionally tear gas is thrown over the embassy walls for the same effect.

It has been 4 months since the coup, and the Honduran government remains isolated, cut off by trade embargoes, and deemed illegitimate by almost every foreign government. The resistance against de facto regime in Honduras is growing and consists now of people who aren’t even Zelaya supporters but who have become disillusioned by the repressive Michelleti government. It is also rumored that Honduran resistance forces are crossing into Nicaragua and training in the mountains. This new Honduran government has a lot going against it, and many wonder how long it will last.

The Transcendental Nature of Music

Solo le pido a Dios que la Guerra no me sea indiferente
Es un monstro grande y pisa fuerte
Toda la pobre inocencia de la gente

These words, transformed into a Latin American-international anthem by the late Argentine singer Mercedes Sosa, were brought to life at a recent tribute concert by Nicaragua’s most famous musicians. The words rang throughout the open-air restaurant, echoed by hundreds of Nicaraguans, all of whom knew them by heart. Mercedes Sosa was an enormous, deep voiced woman famous for taking little-known songs and transcending them into profound, revolutionary, and almost spiritual Latin American hymns.

I was overwhelmed with joy to be present among so many adored local musicians and to take part in the singing of songs written in distant countries but known so well by people in so many different countries. Especially exciting for me was the performance of three songs by Victor Jara. He was a Chilean musician from the 1960s and 70s, tortured and murdered by a U.S.-backed military dictatorship for daring to utter words of peace, love, and revolution in his songs. In Managua, Nicaragua in 2009, everyone knew every word of his songs. Victor Jara’s music and the songs made famous by Mercedes Sosa seem to transcend their artist, their nationality, and time.

The last act of the concert was Luis Enrique Mejia Godoy (my favorite live local artist) accompanied by his brother Carlos Mejia Godoy (Nicaragua’s undisputed greatest musician). Seeing Carlos live in concert has always been a dream of mine since coming to Nicaragua. He is the author of most local revolutionary hymns and pseudo-national anthems, and has been making music since the 1970s. The two brothers, now in their 60s, to me touch the soul of Nicaragua through their music. They are a part of its history, its politics, and its culture. Watching them sing of the beauty of their country and its people with so much energy and emotion was a profound encounter with the culture and the soul of this country.


My health and that of this country

I consider myself around 90% recovered from my bout with dengue fever. I still have remarkably little energy and cannot do anything for half a day without some deep rest. But I feel much better each day and each week and am much more active than I was before. It is physically challenging to get back into my work rhythm, but it is very rewarding as I enjoy being back in the company of my coworkers and the bank women.

Apparently I am not alone in my struggles with dengue; the disease has turned into a bit of an epidemic here, according to newspaper headlines and warnings from the U.S. embassy. Everyone knows someone who has dengue- Norma Helena Gadea, a famous local musician, would have played at the Mercedes Sosa tribute concert had she not come down with dengue the day of! Needless to say I have gone to extraordinary measures to avoid mosquito bites. Luckily the country is experiencing a bit of a drought, because heavy rains would make the already out-of-control dengue even worse. Unfortunately that means farmers don’t grow food and Managua gets in a pinch for fruit, veggies, beans, and rice.


El Recreo

Work and life in El Recreo is great (aside from the extreme poverty and violence of course). The banks continue to grow in size, which spells more work for me but more women who get loans (over 300 now). For a recent cultural celebration I asked Dona Aura (the 65 year old cook at the Project) to accompany me in singing De Colores, a good old fashioned Central American sing-a-long. I was a little nervous to play guitar and sing in front of a big crowd, but Dona Aura’s energy and joy calmed my nerves and helped me savor the moment.

I´m attaching a few pictures below- the first is of Nicaraguan traditional dance at a celebration at the Project. Picture #2 is Amber and me sporting our brand new Proyect Generando Vida shirts (I´m unhappy to have my picture taken at the end of a long day). The third is a picture of my community on a weekend retreat, overlooking the Laguna de Masaya. The last two were taken during a bank desembolso, a meeting with the women in which we give out the loans and eat delicious food to celebrate. Thanks for reading!

Mosquitos Bandidos

Roughly three weeks ago, one of the many mosquitoes that bite my ankles every day happened to be infected with a virus that causes dengue fever. A week later (two weeks ago now), I was at work on a Tuesday, the day of the week that I am responsible for the meetings of 3 groups of bank women. The first meeting of the day was what we call a “bank closing”, where every woman absolutely must pay off the last of her loan, or else the rest of the women have to loan her the money. Bank closings are the most stressful thing that we do. They involve a lot of crying, pleading, arguing, loud noises, and heat. This closing lasted from 9-11 am. At 10am, out of the blue I instantly became more tired than I have ever been at that hour, and my muscles pretty much just shut down. I just sat there for the last hour of the meeting while my coworkers did everything, stunned at my body’s sudden exhaustion. The rest of the day I was completely incapacitated. I couldn’t eat, and basic functions such as walking and talking were a challenge. The last thing I did before leaving work was drive my coworker and $3,000 to deposit in the bank. That was a poor decision, and it is a miracle I did not pass out while driving the Project pickup truck.

I left work early and went straight to a local doctor’s office, where I was running a 103 degree fever and was misdiagnosed with an ear infection. As my doctor watched me shiver and bob my head as if I was going to faint, she changed her diagnosis to the H1N1 flu and told me to go immediately to a public hospital (apparently private ones here don’t have the resources to deal with said influenza). I didn’t believe her and desperately wanted a nap, so I went to bed, and the physical sensation that death was upon me quickly dissipated. Over the next 5 days I rested, drank tons of disgusting re-hydration formula, and nibbled on saltine crackers and white bread (while taking antibiotics for the non-existent ear infection). For a while I improved, but then my symptoms returned and included a soar throat and achy eyes. I suspected malaria or dengue, diseases that tend to have a second wave of symptoms.

I decided on a Sunday evening to go to the hospital. One of my housemates was going there anyway to check up on her finger after a horrifying incident one week prior involving cookies, an electric blade, and lots of blood and screams. So we went to the hospital, my housemate with a stitched and bandaged finger and me sick as a dog. Two hours after arriving at the ER the doctor told me I had dengue fever (ha! I knew it!), and that I would need to be hospitalized for 5 days (ohh boy…). Apparently dengue goes after white blood cells and platelets, and I had scarce amounts of both. So from Sunday evening until Saturday morning, I sat in a hospital bed in an air conditioned room, watched tons of cable TV, ate delicious food, and took walks up and down the hallway to check out the Managua skyline every night (Managua has widespread power cuts and almost no multi-story buildings, so the night skyline isn’t actually that impressive).

The first few days in the hospital were a little scary. The doctor described my case of dengue as a waiting game where we keep our fingers crossed that my platelet levels don’t go so low that the dengue becomes hemorrhagic, which he said would be “catastrophic”. They didn’t go dangerously low, gracias a Dios. I was comforted throughout my stay in the hospital by round the clock visitation from my housemates (someone stayed with me every night and most of the time during the days) and from a number of coworkers, my boss, five nuns bearing Gatorade and cookies, Father Joe (our in-country coordinator), and a handful of bank women! Turns out that a few bank women actually work at the hospital as janitors. Two of my favorite bank women (the ones dancing in a previous blog entry) tried to visit me, but were denied entry by the guard because they couldn’t conjure up my last name. The hospital was a good, private hospital (not Nicaragua’s best), perched on the only hill in central Managua about a 20 minute walk from El Recreo. I was glad I didn’t go to Hospital Vivian Pellas, the best hospital in the country located 13 kilometers south of Managua. It is undoubtedly more expensive, it’s too far for most potential visitors, and it is exclusively frequented by foreigners and Nicaragua’s elite. I very much preferred going to a nearby hospital that is modest but well respected.

I left the hospital on Saturday after being gauged for all I’m worth by the doctor who attended to me (I was definitely given the “gringo price”, although I hear it was peanuts compared to U.S. hospital fees). Had I gone to a public hospital, I would have gotten slightly inferior care, but would not have paid a dime. I am grateful that Nicaragua has universal healthcare for the vast majority of the population that can’t afford insurance or a doctor’s visit. I think that if Nicaragua could obtain medical expertise and resources from the U.S., and if the U.S. could adapt Nicaragua’s free basic health care and efficiency in billing and bureaucracy, then both countries would have phenomenal health care systems. Touchy subject these days, I know.

Anyway, it’s been two weeks since dengue first hit me like a train, and I’m back home and resting a lot. The doctor (the one with the freshly padded wallet) told me to rest for 2 more weeks, which sounds like a long time. I would hope to be back to work before then, but I’ll return to work when my body is good and ready. Today I talked on the phone with a gringa friend who has lived in Nicaragua for twenty something years. Her response to me telling her of my dengue; “Oh! Well, welcome to Nicaragua!”


Peace and Love,
Michael

Living the dream in El Recreo

‘El pueblo unido jamás será vencido.’ A people united will never be defeated. This catchy revolutionary slogan pops into my head when I think of Proyecto Generando Vida and all its admirable attempts at uniting the people of El Recreo. The neighborhood is sharply divided, and violence and poverty tend to squash people’s dreams and encourage complacency. But the Project doesn’t give up and continues to be a place where people who desire to rebuild their community or make a better life for their children can work together and keep each other afloat.

The Bancos de Confianza (banks of trust) is, in my biased opinion, the most impressive, subversive (against the crippling social and economic status quo), and overall successful program at the Project. During a mid-year evaluation with the director of the Project, the bank team was given pats on the back, gold stars, and a lot of encouragement to keep up the good work. We were moderately scolded for our sub-par accounting system, which could be an enabler to any corrupt future members of the bank team. It was suggested that we form at least two more groups of women before the end of the year, bringing the total number of women involved up from 200 at the beginning of the year to 300 by this December. Other suggestions included that I be the driver of the Project pickup truck (a role which I gladly stepped into, although I am quite worried about unavoidable encounters with Nicaraguan traffic cops), and that I stay for a third year. I vehemently opposed the latter suggestion and defended myself by pulling the Nicaraguan trump card (I’d love to, but my family would kill me).


Project director Ana María doing a workshop with one of the banks.

Since so much time with the women in the banks is spent dealing with the subject of money, we try to facilitate fun, laughter, and dancing whenever possible. A Spanish man named Emilio, a specialist in cooperative games, spent a whole week meeting with every bank (that is, every group of women, of which there are 9). He did a mixture of childish games, dancing, and group therapy, which had women laughing, crying, yelling, etc. It was wonderful to see the women enjoying and expressing themselves, something that their culture and home life rarely allows. The women of El Recreo need much more than economic assistance. I was grateful to be present while Emilio helped them work out their emotions and bring out their inner child.

A tradition at the Project is to have a field trip for the staff every July. So twenty of us packed our lunches and bathing suits, crammed into a microbus, and set out for the natural hot springs in Boaco, central Nicaragua. As usual I was enamored with the views of an unfamiliar countryside, which was vibrantly green and pulsating with lush vegetation. We got to the hot springs (which does not initially sound tempting when the air temperature is around 100) and spent the day relaxing by the steaming pools, playing in the water, and dancing. It was exceptionally relaxing and a rare chance to hang out with coworkers in a laid back setting.

Coups d’etat and celebrity suicides

Depending on the thoroughness of U.S. media, you may or may not be aware that the President of Honduras was kidnapped from his home by the Honduran military and shipped off to Costa Rica in what everyone (except the perpetrators) has labeled a coup d’etat. Mel Zelaya, the deposed President (who didn’t even get to change out of his pajamas or grab his cowboy hat when he was kidnapped), was trying awfully hard to make major changes to the constitution, which seriously upset a lot of powerful people in Honduras. I definitely question Zelaya’s prudence and commitment to democracy (I do not consider radical and whimsical changes to a constitution to be a good thing), but I also think it’s outrageous that Honduran congressmen and Supreme Court Justices would order the military to force him out of the country. I appreciate the international community’s reaction (“militaries kicking out presidents is not acceptable”) and I appreciate that diplomacy has, to this point, been the main tool for resolving the issue (as opposed to violently reinstating Zelaya). I’m hoping that the new, illegitimate Honduran government will be reasonable in negotiations, and that the instability will not spread to Nicaragua (which also has a president proposing ridiculous changes to its constitution).


Troubling pictures in the news after the coup d´etat in Honduras. Supporters of the ousted president protested outside the heavily guarded presidential palace.


There were a few pictures in the newspapers of soldiers shooing away reporters in the days after the coup.

In other local/regional news, the mayor of Managua and former boxing champion Alexis Arguello committed suicide recently. People loved him, not as a mayor but as a boxer that put Nicaragua on the map, in boxing terms. He is the second Sandinista mayor of the capital city in the last 4 years to drop dead shortly after drifting away from the party line and loyalty to President Ortega…a coincidence? Some Nicaraguans and JVs think not…

Well, I’m 19 months in with 5 months to go. I love it here but I am excited to come home some day and indulge in the many beautiful things America has to offer (national parks, bacon cheeseburgers, milkshakes, baseball games, etc.). Some major holidays are coming up in Nicaragua which may warrant another entry in the next month or so. July 19 is the 30th anniversary of the Sandinista revolution, at which Hugo Chavez of Venezuela and deposed President Mel Zelaya of Honduras are sure to make special appearances. And August 1st is the celebration of Santo Domingo, which includes but is not limited to the palo lucio, the fabled telephone pole lathered in pig fat with prizes at the top for those who dare to climb it. Thanks for reading!

Peace,
Michael Marchesini





Bank women dancing to their heart´s content at a recent celebration!

Grety and her daugter Jennifer at the beach during a field trip with the bank women.

Yo soy mujer en busca de igualdad
No aguantaré ni abuso ni maldad
Yo soy mujer y tengo dignidad
Y pronto la justicia será una realidad

(I am a woman in search of equality
I will not be abused or maltreated
I am a woman and I have dignity
And soon justice will be a reality)

This is the refrain of the song “Yo soy mujer”, which I stumbled upon a few weeks ago and which has been the theme song of the micro-lending banks as of late. All nine groups of women with which we work have sung this song together at least once, and a good number of them ask to keep the lyrics when we’re finished. In a nutshell this is why we lend small amounts of money to women. We (the bank team - Grety, Silvio, and myself) are interested not only in the financial wellbeing of the woman but also in her growth as a self-confident, empowered, and internally motivated person. Yes, the women are happy when we hand them a 3,000 córdoba ($150) loan, but I have yet to see them happier than when they are gathered with 25 or 30 of their compañeras verbalizing their own self-worth and expressing their common aspiration of justice in their lives in song form.

A one word description of work and life in El Recreo (where I spend my days from 7:30 to 5 and all too often on weekends) would be: tremendous. My relationships with coworkers is very enriching…every morning I engage with Doña Aura, the 65 year old cook at the Project, in a 20 minute discussion on anything from the 1979 revolution, international pandemics, how to chop vegetables just right, or Nicaragua’s colonial history. When we finish she always laughs and apologizes for talking my ear off. Haisy, the administrator at the Project and part-time university student, always greets with a bear hug and we chit chat about her favorite band Maná. Miriam and Arlen, who work in the pharmacy and visual health programs, are great at encouraging me to be myself and allow me to practice my Nica slang on them. And of course, my direct co-workers Grety and Silvio serve as mentors and companions, always willing to explain a cultural quirk that I don’t understand or to listen attentively as I struggle to explain in Spanish some new idea that I have. Grety and I love to talk about family, responsibility, work ethic, and how to empower women, while Silvio and I chat about life in the U.S., international politics and economics, or gossip about my community mates.


Ana María, the director of the Project, and Silvio at the beach


Rosario and Doña Aura, who make up the Comedor (discount lunch) program.

Much of my current happiness at work also has to do with some progressive shifts in the banks. We recently decided to lower the interest rates on loans from 10% down to 7% in an effort to accommodate the crumbling economy and resulting difficulties faced by the women. We are also expanding the size of the banks in order to reach more women. In the last month we opened two new “banks” (groups of women who take out a loan together), increasing the number of women in the banks from 203 to 241. We’re hoping to get up to 300 women in the near future. I am “in charge” of three of the banks, and I find it very fulfilling to work with “my women”, focusing my energies on memorizing their names and engaging in activities and discussions with them of my choosing. My newest group of 24 women is quite inspiring and I look forward to our first four-month cycle of weekly meetings.

The Mountains

My JV community went on retreat in mid-march to a place called La Garnacha, a small village in the mountains outside of Estelí in the north of the country. It was so cold (comparative to Managua, with temperatures hovering around 100 degrees), so peaceful and quiet, and so beautiful, and with stunning views of the countryside and distant volcanoes. La Garnacha has in a sense become my personal place of respite. Three weeks after our retreat Patrick and I returned to the village with our guitars and a tight budget to bask in the fresh air, beautiful views, and friendly campesinos.


My community watching the sunset as we did every evening on retreat at the Mirador (viewpoint).


Patrick and I getting our much needed fix of mountains and fresh air.

Fresh Food


Fresh avacado, tomato, and cheese.

Perhaps I take for granted my phenomenal access to nutritious, fresh food here in Managua. We do almost all of our shopping at the marketplace instead of a grocery store. Almost everything we eat in the house- eggs, vegetables, fruit, rice, and beans- are grown nearby and do not pass through the hands of any major business or packaging company. I love to walk through the fruit and vegetable “aisle” in the market (perhaps “minefield” is a more accurate description), recognizing that the food for sale was not shipped from thousands of miles away with a Chiquita sticker on it, but rather is probably a couple days old and sold from a farmer to a man with a truck, and from the man with the truck to the woman selling it in the market. The ease of obtaining fresh, unpackaged, unprocessed, cheap, and healthy food is probably not something I will have the luxury of indulging in all my life, so I love it while it lasts. Thanks for reading, and enjoy the following random pictures!



Hanging out, in true Nicaraguan fashion, on the sidewalk in front of our house at night.


Rest assured, we are fully prepared should the swine flu end up in Nicaragua.



Rosa Manuela, a bank woman, and her grandaugter frolicking in the waves.



Marling, a phenomenal bank woman with her daughter Diana.


My unintentional pose as Nicaragua´s national hero, Augusto C. Sandino.