Highlight: Chureca - [Untitled]

Attempts to match my words to my deepest emotions expose that I am given to use of the phrase, "there are no words to describe." Though my affinity for hyperbole perhaps leads me to overuse the construction, there are times I will defend the appropriateness of the title "indescribable." The term has rigidly applied to relationships with loved ones, materializing in thank-you's and goodbyes. One week ago, a pile of trash shattered my understanding of that steadfast and hallowed word.

It has taken a week and three return trips to come to terms with my inability to describe Chureca. It is so bad. So bad. In a way, when I say that there are no words, I mean that there are too many; more accurately, too many to be efficient. That place is so bad. So bad. Words have incredible power, but if I may be louder I must be.

Last Tuesday we walked the long and sodden path out of the dump innear silence. The occasional glance over my shoulder revealed again the circling of those black and outsize birds. That ominous cloud fixed in Chureca's sky reminded me with renewed sorrow that what I neither dared nor desired to describe survived my wish that it had been a terrible dream.

In my room at Vanderbilt University, a small flier that once caught my eye hung just above the light switch. It read, "Compassion = Action." If I may be louder, I must be.

Ian Rountree

Program Director

MPI Nicaragua

Shoes to Fill / A Few Lessons

As with every good-bye, those said by this past year's PDs were not far from others saying, "hello." And so we arrived, the "new blood," the "newbies," los "nuevos," we ten Program Directors who will be Manna Project's hands for the coming year. Countless e-mails, an orientation with Ecuador's new PDs in Florida, and a month of training on site has preluded the transition but regardless it is intimidating to know that we are charged to fill shoes we saw walk with such an impact. We have constantly asked ourselves if we can possibly know the hordes of names and faces that our predecessors were able to rattle off, whether the children and parents will listen to us as well, laugh as loudly, or smile as broadly as they did with Josh, Nikki, Maddie, Mary Rose, Emily, Michael, Tressa, and Christina.

While we attempt to learn the paths of love pioneered by those amazing people who have pioneered MPI's presence in Managua, there have been other lessons this new life is teaching us already. I will share a few:

How to dye your tongue with local pitaya...

... How to ride a pickup Nica-style...

... How to enjoy a surprise downpour...

... How to speak Spanish. (And forget English)...

... How to make peace with monkeys boarding your ship...

... And finally, how to handle an active volcano.

Here and eager to learn,

The New Team

learning & leaving

This weekend marks the end of our 13 months with Manna Project. The year has flown by in so many ways. Honestly, anticipation of final goodbyes and getting on that airplane is really scary. This place has become our home, community members our family. Relationships here have grown real and deep, not replacing those in the States but absolutely paralleling them. Nicaraguan women nag us and feed us (hi mom!), little Nica boys wrestle us to the ground like brothers, local university students have become some of our dearest friends. Although it's easy to say that we'll come back, who's to say when we'll see these precious faces again?! People that were once strangers have become a part of who we are.

When our commitment to this place ends on August 9, it will be hard to walk away. But we know we're leaving MPI programs in the capable hands of the newbies, and we're departing with loved ones in our hearts. I think we can all say with confidence that we leave here renewed and with perspectives redefined, with new ideas of how the world should be and what our role is in the face of injustice. We have fresh eyes to see what is reality and how we can serve to make it a better place.

On a lighter note, here are other things we've learned:
-How to drive stick on third world highways (kind of like a video game with pot holes, cows, and running children)
-How to survive extreme awkwardness during home visits
-What to do when your neighbor pulls a gun on you
-Proper handling of two insane rottweilers
-How to entertain yourself during nightly power outages
-How to buy groceries for 20 and oatmeal/vitamins/milk for 50
-What to do when the road turns into a river
-How to ignore (or yell back at) the catcalls of every single Nicaraguan man

The list could go on. The point is, we've learned and grown and laughed and been frustrated and homesick and sweaty and played jokes and taught classes and served and been served and planned and failed and succeeded and been embarassed and lived in shacks and walked in a dump and danced the night away and wrestled with kids and picked fruit and argued about religion and politics and the meaning of life...

That's how the year seems: a total whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. As we poured into this underserved community and got dirty alongside its members, somehow perspectives on life were challenged and redefined. On Saturday, we'll walk away different -- and excited about how to take the things we've learned and use them in the next phase, whatever that may be.

Emily

almost adios

hello friends, christina here. I hope you enjoy these brief stories about friends, work, events, and life in general from the past few months. les quiero!

– if you know anything about my year in nica, you probably know that the cutest 6 year old on the planet, armando, has captured my heart. a hilarious story recently emerged about his trip to swim in our pool a few months ago. apparently when I told him we were going to my house to swim, he thought it meant my house in the USA. when he returned from the swimming adventure he told his mom that the USA was a lot closer than he thought, and that all of the houses were big like in the soap operas and have lots of stuff in them! bless his little heart, I’m gonna miss this guy! equally as cute was the day we took our students to see the movie ‘planet earth’. halfway through the movie, my coworker michael took all the little boys to the bathroom (small boys, small bladders). armando was completely lost in a modern day, gleaming white bathroom with stalls. michael placed him in a stall and went to help the others. when he returned a minute later, armando was standing in the same position. he looked up at michael quizzically and asked, “where do I do it?”

– a few of our fabulous summer volunteers put on a (much needed) sexual education talk for about 15 teenage girls from the local community, all of whom are our students and friends. despite the giggling and red cheeks, they listened attentively and thoroughly enjoyed a time talking with older women and each other about all the things you need to know to be a woman but perhaps never heard from your mom! we cleared up many antiquated myths, answered their many questions, shared funny stories, and ate yummy food. it was a rich time of fellowship with one another and, in our minds, was extremely successful to open a healthy dialogue about sexuality and their body. one of the most frustrating issues I’ve encountered in nicaragua has been the issue of women’s rights and expectations pressed upon them by their culture. women are the backbone of society and get no recognition for it. it’s very common for a girl to drop out of school because she’s pregnant at age 16 (or younger!), and most girls don’t go to school when they have their periods — what an unfair disadvantage to miss 1/4 of your schooling! women slave away raising children, cooking, cleaning, working other jobs and keeping steady homes, and all of the while (most) men run around having affairs and running out on their families. the lack of responsibility and leadership amoung the male population is sad, but can you blame them? they’re only following in their father’s footsteps.


– the girls soccer team from la chureca challenged us to a game, but this time gringas vs. nicas! tressa, the girls in our second group of summer vols and I headed to chureca one friday morning ready to play. the tiny, dirt field was sloped on one end and covered in holes and bumps; it seemed more like a game of pinball at times, the ball would jump around in every direction! at one point I ran into two girls from the other team and slightly sprained my ankle, not fun. unfortunately we ended up in a tie 0-0. most exciting was the crowd the game attracted! many of the moms and kids we know meandered over to watch and ended up taunting + cheering the players on the field.

– the dozens upon dozens of volunteers that stayed at our house this year provided the fuel for a wonderful event: a clothing sale in la chureca with the proceeds benefiting the clinic. with so many volunteers bringing donations, our house had turned into a packed thrift store. kathy august, a local missionary, holds a clothing sale every few months in the nearby community of cedro galan so we modeled our sale on her past events. a clothing sale had never been done in chureca (according to the families we know there) so it was wonderful to bless them in this way! we brought in dozens of suitcases, arranged the clothing and let the madness begin. we followed kathy’s rule of 15: 15 people inside the sale at a time, 15 minutes, 15 items of clothing each. the clothing and shoes were in good condition and we priced them dirt cheap. the line was out the door and we sold an insane amount of clothing! funny moment: a pregnant woman went to check out and tried to buy 30 items of clothing. we explained the 15 item rule and she promptly pointed to her swollen belly and explained that her unborn child counted as another person!

– the tears have begun to flow. tuesday night we had a goodbye / welcome party for the community in our little schoolhouse: goodbye for the old group and a welcome to the new group of volunteers who will spend the next year living la vida nica. the room was absolutely packed by the time we started (about 120 people!). we played a slide show of pictures from the year, said our goodbyes, welcomed the new group, and allowed nica friends to come up front and say a few words. tears were shed, some friends recited poems and played us songs, it was a beautiful affair. looking around the room I was overwhelmed by all of the nicaraguan friends we were surrounded by: students, neighbors, our new families. they will be greatly missed but never forgotten!

hasta luego, christina

anniversary

It was July 11, 2008, that we arrived to Nicaragua. Confused, exhausted, frustrated over lost luggage and language barriers and currency exchance – but so full of anticipation for the year to come. And we had no idea then what the next 13 months would hold or how fast they’d fly by.

So it was that last Saturday marked our MPI one-year anniversary. A year ago on that day, the old PDs picked us up from the airport and whisked us off to dinner at a traditional Nicaraguan restaurant called Doña Haydee’s. Over our first tastes of gallo pinto and cacao, the “old balls” recounted funny stories from the year, telling us what to look forward to and what would be hard. And last week, we found ourselves in the same restaurant on the same day… but this time a year later, with the new group in tow. The parallels were uncanny and bittersweet. This time we were the old ones. We were the ones speaking Spanish with confidence, advising what to order, and laughing over the past few months.

Having the new group of PDs finally here (after so many hours of selection and anticipation!) incites even stronger feelings of nostalgia for the past year… and both despair and excitement in expectation of the coming transition back to life in the States. It’s a beginning for all of us. The beginning of adjustment and orientation for the newbies. And the beginning of the end for us “old balls.” There are lots of goodbyes to come as we begin our trek out.

Leaving this place behind will be a process of contemplating and reconciling. Saying goodbye is hard, but perhaps harder is the thought that this phase of life is ending. Living in community. Working alongside friends, both gringo and Nica. Spending hours in a rural neighborhood, playing and exploring. Sitting in families’ homes. Speaking Spanish. Having time to ask the “why” questions and put together a more complete picture of what is this world. It’s all about to end.

Nikki heads out next Wednesday (because she wants to go to med school or something?!?) and the rest of us depart in early August. The next few weeks will fly by. And though it seemed at times that this time would never come, when I board my flight to go home I know I’ll be wishing this chapter wasn’t over.

Emily

fourth of july

Many of us have realized that this month (or in Laura’s case, two months) has been one of the greatest of our lives. For sure one of the best summer months ever. With working hard during the day and relaxing and bonding at night, loving the kids and volunteers nonstop, Manna breeds an environment that is like summer camp mixed with the peace corps. You serve and get served and love and get love, several times over every day. We are not wholly selfless- we have a pool, a house mom, and electricity despite our third world conditions. We are not selfish, either- we don’t have a TV set (to the disgust of many Nicas who watch telenovelas nightly) or air conditioning or a dishwasher. But what we’ve learned down here, among many other things, is that life is so much more than what you have (or what you don’t). And on the Fourth of July, a day where we wonder why Americans are so blessed (even the poor and hungry) and so fortunate, we can take a step back and just be thankful for it all. Our elections, while political and emotionally involved, are free from bloodshed or assassination. Our job market, while unsteady and chaotic, is at least able to provide for the majority of Americans and continues to provide a life above the world poverty line — unlike the workers in Chureca who live on less than $1 a day (called extreme poverty, and half of the world lives in that label). Our faith, while seemingly divided more and more each year with the onset of religions from Scientology to Kaballah to the church of people like Fred Phelps, at least allows peaceful coexistence...

Chase
Summer Volunteer

cone day

To reward strong attendance in literacy and math classes yesterday, we took twelve students to Volcán Masaya National Park for the afternoon. A standard spot for tourists, this volcano is active, smoking high into the sky and topped by a giant cross. Although it’s just a few miles outside of Managua, these kids from the rural areas of Cedro Galán had never seen a volcano before, much less hiked to the sulfury summit.

As the micro wound it way up the side of the volcano, we pointed out the dried lava and volcanic rock from past explosions. The chatter amongst the kids was hilarious as they bounced in their seats and discussed how ugly it was and how they wished they could witness an explosion and float away on the rivers of lava! We arrived to the top, clambered out of the car, and peeked over the safety wall into the gaping hole that led down “into the center of the earth,” as a few little boys claimed. After photos at the rim and a short hike to the cross mounted above (where we could barely breathe because of the sulfur!), reactions were divided. Some students continued to exclaim “¡Que tuani, que bonito!” while others thought it was “feo” and just far too smelly to be worth their time.


The ride down the volcano was concluded by a short visit to the park museum and then a return to Managua. In typical Manna fashion, we tried to tie this expedition to either math or literacy by insisting that it was Cone Day! A volcano is a cone, funnels are cones, and… ice cream comes in a cone. So we wrapped up the attendance celebration with an ice cream party in El Farito. And we learned that ice cream cones drip wayyy too fast in the heat of Nicaragua!

All in all, it proved to be a unique day for these twelve math and literacy students. Though Nicaragua is called the Land of Lakes and Volcanoes, the majority of these children have never had the chance to come in close contact with either. So whether they called Volcán Masaya “feo” or “bonito,” we were blessed to stand beside them as explored such a notable and powerful (and cone-shaped!) part of their nation.

Emily