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.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
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!
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!
Monday, August 31, 2009
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
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
Saturday, July 11, 2009
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!
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!
Saturday, May 2, 2009
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.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
My beloved Nicaragua
Ay, Nicaragua Nicaragüita, la flor mas linda de mi querer...a line from a love song for this country written by it’s most famous musician, Carlos Mejia Godoy. His brother, Luis Enrique Mejia Godoy, is also quite famous, and it is he whom I got to see perform live! Celebrating the 75th anniversary of the national hero Augusto C. Sandino (countryside rebellion leader against U.S. forces in the 1920s and 30s), Luis played a number of revolutionary and famous patriotic songs- everything from tributes to Sandino, revolutionary battle hymns, songs celebrating the role of women in the 1979 revolution, catchy tunes about typical Nicaraguan food, and songs like Nicaragua Nicaragüita- love songs for a beautiful country. The best part was my former host dad, Don Martin, singing along to every song and his wife, Blanca, telling me how much this music means to him. Don Martin was a Sandinista soldier in the 1980s and fought for two years in the mountains in the north against the U.S.-backed Contras. Luis and his brother Carlos have been writing music since the 70s, and their music, according to Blanca, brings Don Martin back to the mountains and reminds him what he fought for. The concert ended with everyone in the audience (gringos included) singing along to two verses of Nicaragua, Nicaragüita, repeated over and over. The song concludes with the famous line “Pero ahora que ya sos libre, Nicaragüita, yo te quiero mucho mas” (But now that you are free, my beloved Nicaragua, I love you that much more).
While Luis Enrique Mejia Godoy and his world-famous brother Carlos continue to sing about Sandino, the revolution, and the need for peace in their beloved country, life goes on in Barrio El Recreo, somewhat lacking of the revolutionary inspiration that the Mejia Godoy brothers try so hard to rekindle. But El Recreo residents are fighters. I continue to be inspired by the sweat and tears my coworkers put in to the Project to make life better for their community. My direct coworker Grety has been especially inspirational to me lately. A single mother raising three kids and taking care of her nephew as well, working full time and then coming home to cook, clean, and wash clothes by hand, jumping through bureaucratic hoops every two weeks to force her ex-husband to pay child support, Grety maintains and joy and confidence about her that motivates her coworkers and 200 or so bank women whom she sees every week.
Thanks largely in part to the patience and love of people like Grety at work, this year I have really felt like I have a place in the Project. Work started up full time again at the beginning of February. The Project is much smaller this year, after cutting multiple programs due to financial constraints. I feel as though I am out of the training stage in the banks and have my equal share of responsibilities and respect as my two coworkers Grety and Silvio. I finally know the names of most of the women in the two bank groups for which I am responsible (about 65 women total).
I’d like to share two fascinating stories from my work. The first: the slaughter of a pig. Grety, Silvio, and I went to visit a bank woman, Maria Olimpia. When we got to her house she had a bloody apron on, her elderly mother was sitting outside in a wheelchair, and her husband had already killed the pig via axe and tied it upside down. There was a big bowl below the pig to catch its blood, which would later be used to make deep friend bloody rice patties. In two other huge bowls, Maria Olimpia was separating the pig skin (to be deep fried and nibbled upon as Chicharron, which is actually delicious) and the slabs up meat/blubber, which would just be friend and eaten with rice and a tortilla. Her husband picked the pig apart with a machete, carefully dissecting it piece by piece. When all that was left besides the skeleton was the head, lungs, and multi-colored intestines, I got nauseous and had to sit down and stare at the ground for about 10 minutes to collect myself, and then distracted myself by talking about plants with the elderly mother in the wheelchair. We left, and the next woman we visited on the other side of the neighborhood, by total coincidence, served the three of us a huge plate of rice and fried, fatty pig meat. Mmm.
The second story from work is about a horse. This one is not gross. A couple weeks ago an old, scrawny horse sat down next to the Project and slowly died over the course of five days. The horse was owned by an elderly couple who live along the ‘cauce’…in other words, they are extremely, extremely poor. The old couple, Guillermo and Rosa both need crutches to get around and have multiple grandkids to take care of, but they are the only adults in their home. They used the horse to draw a rickety carriage to the market, buy fruits and vegetables, and take them back to the neighborhood to sell. When the horse died, they were out of work. Going against a lot of rules, the bank team decided to facilitate this couple buying a new horse (there is a rule that says a woman must have a recommendation to enter the banks…unfortunately, no one wants to recommend the poorest of the poor). We urged Rosa to join the banks, and last week she was present with 32 other women at the opening of a bank cycle and received a 3,000 cordoba loan ($150) to purchase a new horse. Grety, Silvio, and I walked by her house three days later. No one was home, and the rickety carriage was gone. They were back to work!
In other news, we had a community guilty pleasure activity a few Fridays ago. Using ‘special’ funds, we rejected our basic values of simple living, social justice, and physical health for a night and went to, um, McDonalds. I felt so guilty, but it was so delicious. I even shaved a nice thick mustache and wore my ‘long live democracy and freedom’ shirt to really celebrate the truly American event. Forgive me God, JVI, my body, and all those who work for justice in the world.
Aside from that fluke night we keep quite healthy here. We had our first harvest from our dozens of baby basil plants last night (thanks Mom for the seeds!), and we have a decent compost bin going as well. The oregano and parsley plants are up and coming and the cilantro is stronger than ever. Patrick and I built a ‘hanging garden’, as we have no soil access and very little sun hits the ground in our patio. The homemade shelves get our new garden some much needed sun!
The hanging garden: basil, cilantro, oregano
Our impressive aloe plant...great for sunburns
The compost bins: A 3 gallon water jug wrapped in a Home Depot bag, and an old water filter
Thai basil, one of our three varieties of basil plants
We also have two bikes in the house, one of which works, kind of. I took the decent one to work for the first time on Friday, and I’m hoping to get in the habit of bike commuting two or three times a week. It’s kind of scary, as Managua is not exactly bike friendly. But I’m working on finding the least trafficked routes. It was quicker to commute via bike than it is to commute by bus, and I can get daily exercise without expending extra time! It felt great also to work with energy and a clear head after having exercised in the morning.
So, as you may have noticed, and I hope I gave the right impression, but I am very much enjoying life here. My job is very rewarding and I feel confident and capable at work. I am becoming enamored with Nicaraguan culture, a sort of polar opposite experience of culture shock. And I enjoy very much the little things that bring so much happiness, i.e. gardening, biking to work, and seeing revolutionary musical heroes. Jenna and I are about to complete 15 months of being in Nicaragua, which means only 9 left to go! I’m hoping that things only get better and that I savor every day in this jodido, but beautiful country.
Peace and Love
Michael
While Luis Enrique Mejia Godoy and his world-famous brother Carlos continue to sing about Sandino, the revolution, and the need for peace in their beloved country, life goes on in Barrio El Recreo, somewhat lacking of the revolutionary inspiration that the Mejia Godoy brothers try so hard to rekindle. But El Recreo residents are fighters. I continue to be inspired by the sweat and tears my coworkers put in to the Project to make life better for their community. My direct coworker Grety has been especially inspirational to me lately. A single mother raising three kids and taking care of her nephew as well, working full time and then coming home to cook, clean, and wash clothes by hand, jumping through bureaucratic hoops every two weeks to force her ex-husband to pay child support, Grety maintains and joy and confidence about her that motivates her coworkers and 200 or so bank women whom she sees every week.
Thanks largely in part to the patience and love of people like Grety at work, this year I have really felt like I have a place in the Project. Work started up full time again at the beginning of February. The Project is much smaller this year, after cutting multiple programs due to financial constraints. I feel as though I am out of the training stage in the banks and have my equal share of responsibilities and respect as my two coworkers Grety and Silvio. I finally know the names of most of the women in the two bank groups for which I am responsible (about 65 women total).
I’d like to share two fascinating stories from my work. The first: the slaughter of a pig. Grety, Silvio, and I went to visit a bank woman, Maria Olimpia. When we got to her house she had a bloody apron on, her elderly mother was sitting outside in a wheelchair, and her husband had already killed the pig via axe and tied it upside down. There was a big bowl below the pig to catch its blood, which would later be used to make deep friend bloody rice patties. In two other huge bowls, Maria Olimpia was separating the pig skin (to be deep fried and nibbled upon as Chicharron, which is actually delicious) and the slabs up meat/blubber, which would just be friend and eaten with rice and a tortilla. Her husband picked the pig apart with a machete, carefully dissecting it piece by piece. When all that was left besides the skeleton was the head, lungs, and multi-colored intestines, I got nauseous and had to sit down and stare at the ground for about 10 minutes to collect myself, and then distracted myself by talking about plants with the elderly mother in the wheelchair. We left, and the next woman we visited on the other side of the neighborhood, by total coincidence, served the three of us a huge plate of rice and fried, fatty pig meat. Mmm.
The second story from work is about a horse. This one is not gross. A couple weeks ago an old, scrawny horse sat down next to the Project and slowly died over the course of five days. The horse was owned by an elderly couple who live along the ‘cauce’…in other words, they are extremely, extremely poor. The old couple, Guillermo and Rosa both need crutches to get around and have multiple grandkids to take care of, but they are the only adults in their home. They used the horse to draw a rickety carriage to the market, buy fruits and vegetables, and take them back to the neighborhood to sell. When the horse died, they were out of work. Going against a lot of rules, the bank team decided to facilitate this couple buying a new horse (there is a rule that says a woman must have a recommendation to enter the banks…unfortunately, no one wants to recommend the poorest of the poor). We urged Rosa to join the banks, and last week she was present with 32 other women at the opening of a bank cycle and received a 3,000 cordoba loan ($150) to purchase a new horse. Grety, Silvio, and I walked by her house three days later. No one was home, and the rickety carriage was gone. They were back to work!
In other news, we had a community guilty pleasure activity a few Fridays ago. Using ‘special’ funds, we rejected our basic values of simple living, social justice, and physical health for a night and went to, um, McDonalds. I felt so guilty, but it was so delicious. I even shaved a nice thick mustache and wore my ‘long live democracy and freedom’ shirt to really celebrate the truly American event. Forgive me God, JVI, my body, and all those who work for justice in the world.
Aside from that fluke night we keep quite healthy here. We had our first harvest from our dozens of baby basil plants last night (thanks Mom for the seeds!), and we have a decent compost bin going as well. The oregano and parsley plants are up and coming and the cilantro is stronger than ever. Patrick and I built a ‘hanging garden’, as we have no soil access and very little sun hits the ground in our patio. The homemade shelves get our new garden some much needed sun!
The hanging garden: basil, cilantro, oregano
Our impressive aloe plant...great for sunburns
The compost bins: A 3 gallon water jug wrapped in a Home Depot bag, and an old water filter
Thai basil, one of our three varieties of basil plants
We also have two bikes in the house, one of which works, kind of. I took the decent one to work for the first time on Friday, and I’m hoping to get in the habit of bike commuting two or three times a week. It’s kind of scary, as Managua is not exactly bike friendly. But I’m working on finding the least trafficked routes. It was quicker to commute via bike than it is to commute by bus, and I can get daily exercise without expending extra time! It felt great also to work with energy and a clear head after having exercised in the morning.
So, as you may have noticed, and I hope I gave the right impression, but I am very much enjoying life here. My job is very rewarding and I feel confident and capable at work. I am becoming enamored with Nicaraguan culture, a sort of polar opposite experience of culture shock. And I enjoy very much the little things that bring so much happiness, i.e. gardening, biking to work, and seeing revolutionary musical heroes. Jenna and I are about to complete 15 months of being in Nicaragua, which means only 9 left to go! I’m hoping that things only get better and that I savor every day in this jodido, but beautiful country.
Peace and Love
Michael
Friday, January 16, 2009
A new year/ reflections
My thoughts on the phrase ‘social justice’
When I came to Nicaragua over 13 months ago I believed strongly in fighting and overcoming some of the structures that oppress and dehumanize people here. When I started teaching and tutoring I felt I was in the position of educator and motivator, one who would not only help students pass their classes but also help them swim against the currents of anger and violence that are so ferocious in the neighborhood of El Recreo. As a teacher and tutor I learned many lessons that reformed my notion of social justice in El Recreo, and working in the microlending banks with the women of El Recreo has further transformed that notion. I must admit that as a North American who never in 2 years of JVI will become completely fluent and culturally competent, there is a limit to the tangible effects that I can have in my work. As a foreigner, there are still things that I don’t get about how or why locals do things and what they are saying to me sometimes. That lack of understanding makes it harder for me to be the teacher that steers students toward nonviolence and success or the microlending bank worker that empowers women and lifts them out of poverty.
So if I’m not shaking things up in El Recreo’s social or economic structure, what am I doing? I still believe that social justice is a pivotal piece of what I do here in Nicaragua. But for me, in these 2 years here, social justice is quickly becoming an issue of my relationships with my coworkers and the individual residents of El Recreo. The scope of issues that concern me has steadily narrowed from international to national Nicaraguan issues down to Managua city issues to El Recreo neighborhood issues and finally all the way down to the issues of the bank woman that stays late to confide in me, the former student who I run into in the street, or the family of a coworker. If I do work for social justice (and I believe I do), it is now at the personal level more than anything. In my context right now, social justice is being someone who the bank women can trust in a neighborhood of untrustworthy men. It is being a consistent friend and encourager to former students, a friend and motivator to coworkers, and a humble student of Nicaraguan lifestyle. With this new, micro-level approach to social justice, I am using my talents. I am not an accountant, teacher, or social worker by trade, nor do I posess native spanish fluency. So I offer what I can to the women and children of El Recreo and to the workers of Proyecto Generando Vida; I listen to them, feel for them, encourage them, and accompany them as they carry out their vision of social justice for their own homes and community.
Life as a second-year Jesuit Volunteer
In the early days of December, four wide-eyed compassionate, intelligent, and highly capable U.S. citizens left their homes and came to Managua to begin their 2 years as Jesuit Volunteers. So for a time we squeezed 10 volunteers into one house with six beds; 4 JVs preparing to depart, 2 JVs entering their second year, and 4 newbies. The new volunteers spent much of their time in homestays and in language school, and Jenna and I said our goodbyes to our four community mates of the previous year. They departed on December 19th for the U.S. for the first time in two years. The new community of six has been settling in since the 20th or so, and we had a wonderful celebration of Christmas together, complete with a terribly boring pageant in the neighborhood church and a wonderful dinner of BBQ chicken and pre-packaged mashed potatoes, gravy, and stuffing sent down from the states.
"Jesus the Destroyer", a statue inside our neighborhood church
While the new volunteers got themselves oriented to life in Managua, Jenna and I kept ourselves busy and joyful with visitors. My friend Katie from college dropped in to visit for a few days on her way home from Bolivia, and after Christmas my Mom flew in to begin her whirlwind tour of everything I know in Nicaragua. With the Spanish skills that she’d honed over the past year, my Mom stayed in homestays with the same Nicaraguan families who hosted me in the past, and successfully made friends with all of them! She spent time with my house community, came to work with me one day, made two trips to the market, rode the city busses (slightly more insane than a Seattle city bus), and relaxed at the beach and in the charming city of Granada. It was fun for my coworkers, host families, and community to meet her, and it was wonderful to share with her what my life is like here. Jenna simultaneously had her family visit, and it was a blast finally getting to meet all these family members of hers that I had heard about throughout the last year. The new volunteers also got to tag along a few times for some parent-sponsored meals and fun.
My community in the pool
Patrick drinking a beer underwater
With all the visitors gone, our new community continues the process of settling in. The role of second year volunteer is a complete role reversal for me, but I very much enjoy it. It’s been a reassuring experience now that I’ve had to test my Spanish abilities and knowledge of how things work in Nicaragua more so than I did before. Also, not to speak to soon, as I am sort of on vacation so the stress level is quite low, but I feel in many ways as though I am cresting the hill of culture shock and language frustrations. My friendships with a handful on Nicaraguans (specifically my two closest coworkers and my host family from my neighborhood) have improved dramatically over the last few months, and those strengthening friendships have helped to ease my continual transition into Nicaraguan culture. I feel as though the last 13 months have also paid off in terms of language abilities. After all the frustrations of understanding 90% of the words someone says but not having a clue what their point is, I finally feel as though I can fully express myself and fully comprehend most people with whom I speak Spanish. Gracias a Dios. Por fin. All that being said, I am excited for this upcoming year. Work starts full time at the beginning of February. I eagerly anticipate a year with minimal culture shock and miscommunications.
Peace and Love to all,
Michael
When I came to Nicaragua over 13 months ago I believed strongly in fighting and overcoming some of the structures that oppress and dehumanize people here. When I started teaching and tutoring I felt I was in the position of educator and motivator, one who would not only help students pass their classes but also help them swim against the currents of anger and violence that are so ferocious in the neighborhood of El Recreo. As a teacher and tutor I learned many lessons that reformed my notion of social justice in El Recreo, and working in the microlending banks with the women of El Recreo has further transformed that notion. I must admit that as a North American who never in 2 years of JVI will become completely fluent and culturally competent, there is a limit to the tangible effects that I can have in my work. As a foreigner, there are still things that I don’t get about how or why locals do things and what they are saying to me sometimes. That lack of understanding makes it harder for me to be the teacher that steers students toward nonviolence and success or the microlending bank worker that empowers women and lifts them out of poverty.
So if I’m not shaking things up in El Recreo’s social or economic structure, what am I doing? I still believe that social justice is a pivotal piece of what I do here in Nicaragua. But for me, in these 2 years here, social justice is quickly becoming an issue of my relationships with my coworkers and the individual residents of El Recreo. The scope of issues that concern me has steadily narrowed from international to national Nicaraguan issues down to Managua city issues to El Recreo neighborhood issues and finally all the way down to the issues of the bank woman that stays late to confide in me, the former student who I run into in the street, or the family of a coworker. If I do work for social justice (and I believe I do), it is now at the personal level more than anything. In my context right now, social justice is being someone who the bank women can trust in a neighborhood of untrustworthy men. It is being a consistent friend and encourager to former students, a friend and motivator to coworkers, and a humble student of Nicaraguan lifestyle. With this new, micro-level approach to social justice, I am using my talents. I am not an accountant, teacher, or social worker by trade, nor do I posess native spanish fluency. So I offer what I can to the women and children of El Recreo and to the workers of Proyecto Generando Vida; I listen to them, feel for them, encourage them, and accompany them as they carry out their vision of social justice for their own homes and community.
Life as a second-year Jesuit Volunteer
In the early days of December, four wide-eyed compassionate, intelligent, and highly capable U.S. citizens left their homes and came to Managua to begin their 2 years as Jesuit Volunteers. So for a time we squeezed 10 volunteers into one house with six beds; 4 JVs preparing to depart, 2 JVs entering their second year, and 4 newbies. The new volunteers spent much of their time in homestays and in language school, and Jenna and I said our goodbyes to our four community mates of the previous year. They departed on December 19th for the U.S. for the first time in two years. The new community of six has been settling in since the 20th or so, and we had a wonderful celebration of Christmas together, complete with a terribly boring pageant in the neighborhood church and a wonderful dinner of BBQ chicken and pre-packaged mashed potatoes, gravy, and stuffing sent down from the states.
"Jesus the Destroyer", a statue inside our neighborhood church
While the new volunteers got themselves oriented to life in Managua, Jenna and I kept ourselves busy and joyful with visitors. My friend Katie from college dropped in to visit for a few days on her way home from Bolivia, and after Christmas my Mom flew in to begin her whirlwind tour of everything I know in Nicaragua. With the Spanish skills that she’d honed over the past year, my Mom stayed in homestays with the same Nicaraguan families who hosted me in the past, and successfully made friends with all of them! She spent time with my house community, came to work with me one day, made two trips to the market, rode the city busses (slightly more insane than a Seattle city bus), and relaxed at the beach and in the charming city of Granada. It was fun for my coworkers, host families, and community to meet her, and it was wonderful to share with her what my life is like here. Jenna simultaneously had her family visit, and it was a blast finally getting to meet all these family members of hers that I had heard about throughout the last year. The new volunteers also got to tag along a few times for some parent-sponsored meals and fun.
My community in the pool
Patrick drinking a beer underwater
With all the visitors gone, our new community continues the process of settling in. The role of second year volunteer is a complete role reversal for me, but I very much enjoy it. It’s been a reassuring experience now that I’ve had to test my Spanish abilities and knowledge of how things work in Nicaragua more so than I did before. Also, not to speak to soon, as I am sort of on vacation so the stress level is quite low, but I feel in many ways as though I am cresting the hill of culture shock and language frustrations. My friendships with a handful on Nicaraguans (specifically my two closest coworkers and my host family from my neighborhood) have improved dramatically over the last few months, and those strengthening friendships have helped to ease my continual transition into Nicaraguan culture. I feel as though the last 13 months have also paid off in terms of language abilities. After all the frustrations of understanding 90% of the words someone says but not having a clue what their point is, I finally feel as though I can fully express myself and fully comprehend most people with whom I speak Spanish. Gracias a Dios. Por fin. All that being said, I am excited for this upcoming year. Work starts full time at the beginning of February. I eagerly anticipate a year with minimal culture shock and miscommunications.
Peace and Love to all,
Michael
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)