Ok, I've been avoiding writing an entry, since I'm afraid I won't accurately represent what happened in the campo. But I'll give it my best shot.
I lived in La Amancia, with a single mom and five of her kids. The other seven are old enough to live out of the house. Yeah, her kids range from a 26 year old daughter to a three month old son. Who I ended up taking roughly a million pictures of, I guess because he made a good picture prop. We lived in a one room shack with wood boards for walls, a tin roof, and a dirt floor. The house was shaped like a small L, with a bed on the ends and the living room in the middle. We lived right on the main road so every half hour or so a creatively decorated bus would rumble by to pick up/drop off day laborers, students, teachers, and everyone else in the campo. They're apparently privately run, and they're surprisingly effective. So, kudos.
La Amancia never had electricity, we used the candles I brought after nightfall, generally 6:00. We had a radio, so sometimes my sisters and I (they're all under 13) would have dance parties to reggeaton, merengue, mariachi, and pop. They're way better dancers than me.
The scenery is gorgeous. The farms are not Iowan cornfields, they're more like a jungle that spontaneously decided to grow coffee, corn, bananas, oranges, papayas, chayote, and anything else. I met the owners of one of these farms, and they were really friendly. Without knowing anything about me except I'm a student from the US (None of the reps from SIT came with us, it was just me and 5 other students from the group), they showed me around (with two other students) both of their gorgeous fincas.
Not only that, these people can be incredibly motivated. I met one woman, Blanca, who teaches elementary school during the week, then attends class in the city on weekends to be a high school professor, all while 7 months pregnant (when I was there anyway). Rachel (Blanca's host sister) and I went to the elementary school with her, which was ridiculous. We took two buses and an hour long walk up a mountain road (which included a small river to ford) to get to the three-room school. We played games with the kids and gave an english lesson. I like thinking that 30 kids in the middle of nowhere know the lyrics to "Miss American Pie."
Life there is so hard. The father of my host mom's (Myrna) children is a drunk, would beat Myrna, and eventuall married another woman. Myrna doesn't even have the money to buy flour for tortillas. We ate only what I brought, what other people gave to us, and what she could find in her own little farm. She's pretty lucky; she owns about an acre of land (or half a manzana, as I heard it) just outside of town. But anyway, domestic abuse and alcoholism is very prevalent in the campo, no doubt due to the grinding poverty. I'd like to write later about machismo if I get a chance though, it's an interesting topic.
Anyway, it's a start. Please, ask me questions so I can figure out what else to say. =)
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Prepping for el campo
I´m going to the country-side for the next 7 days or so. I´ll be living with the poorest in Nicaragua. Here are the statistics. 80% of the people in Nicaragua live on less than US$2 a day. 40% do not have access to potable water, in a country with an inordinate amount of freshwater sources. (We will bring water purifiers, and leave them with the villages after we leave)
So today I went to the Oriental Market to buy supplies for my village home stay.
Food: Rice, beans, oil, sugar, salt, some powdered soup mixes, potatoes, carrots, onions, spaghetti.
A plastic hammock that looks really uncomfortable. Rope.
One small plastic bucket. I´ll use it to take baths and wash my hands at meal times and after using the bathroom. Sidenote--none of the villages will have a latrine. This will be more of a Quetico, dig-your-own-hole style thing. As for baths, I´ll be in the river. A bathing suit would be too risque, so I´m just going to have to figure out what the villagers do. Remain in their day clothes?
Soap for: hands, clothes, and something else. Dishes, maybe?
Matches. Probablry more. My morning in the market was a bit surreal.
All of this will be left with the family after we leave. I feel a bit like Santa Claus. And considering all the other stuff I´ll be bringing, like bedsheets, toiletries, my headlamp, three changes of clothes, two pairs of shoes, etc, I´m going to have more things than all the members of my host family combined.
There are going to be bugs. It´s going to be dirty. I´ll be doing the same work the family does, so I will be tired. They aren´t going to talk slow like my host mom does. They´ve probably never seen a foreigner before.
I have a feeling the upcoming week is going to be one of the most intense of my life. Stay tuned. I leave tomorrow morning at 7:00 am.
So today I went to the Oriental Market to buy supplies for my village home stay.
Food: Rice, beans, oil, sugar, salt, some powdered soup mixes, potatoes, carrots, onions, spaghetti.
A plastic hammock that looks really uncomfortable. Rope.
One small plastic bucket. I´ll use it to take baths and wash my hands at meal times and after using the bathroom. Sidenote--none of the villages will have a latrine. This will be more of a Quetico, dig-your-own-hole style thing. As for baths, I´ll be in the river. A bathing suit would be too risque, so I´m just going to have to figure out what the villagers do. Remain in their day clothes?
Soap for: hands, clothes, and something else. Dishes, maybe?
Matches. Probablry more. My morning in the market was a bit surreal.
All of this will be left with the family after we leave. I feel a bit like Santa Claus. And considering all the other stuff I´ll be bringing, like bedsheets, toiletries, my headlamp, three changes of clothes, two pairs of shoes, etc, I´m going to have more things than all the members of my host family combined.
There are going to be bugs. It´s going to be dirty. I´ll be doing the same work the family does, so I will be tired. They aren´t going to talk slow like my host mom does. They´ve probably never seen a foreigner before.
I have a feeling the upcoming week is going to be one of the most intense of my life. Stay tuned. I leave tomorrow morning at 7:00 am.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
La Vida
I can't believe it's been almost a week since my last entry. It should probably also be known that I was sick all of Thursday and Friday. My cold morphed into a 100 F fever. Then I woke up this morning a bit dazed but back to normal. Fortunately, it's la semana patria (patriotic week), so we got Friday off. I mostly self medicated with water and an "anti-gripal" drug called Panadol. Right now I'm at the SIT study center, with the hope of completing my paper about above mentioned semana patria--in Spanish--yet that is for some reason a bit daunting at the moment. So I'll talk about my feelings instead. =)
Here's my daily routine. I wake up at around 7:00-ish, probably earlier thanks to a rather enterprising rooster next door. Since the water shuts off at 8:00, I make sure to take a shower soon after I wake up. I'm not sure exactly how the water system works in the house. Edu fills up buckes to the brim every morning so there's ample amounts for the rest of the day. There's even a barrel in the shower, so if I miss the water hours, I could always take a bucket bath. Then I have breakfast, usually rice, beans, and a banana.
At around 8:30, I start walking to the UCA. Usually I go with a few other people from the SIT group, and we take a route known 'round here as the Zig-Zag, preferred for its scenic beauty and lack of pedestrian-unfriendly superhighways. Depending on who I walk with, this can take between 20 and 40 minutes. Taxis are constantly beeping at us--their way of inquiring if we want a lift-- and men regularly shout out piropos, or catcalls, at the women. The best way to deal with this is to ignore it, reactions of any kind just make it worse. But then of course you occasionally ignore someone who genuinely is wishing you a "buen dia." But that's life.
Spanish class goes from 9-12:30, with a break at around 11:00. At this point I usually buy instant coffee from a little convenience store on campus. It costs 3 cordobas, which works out to about 1 penny. Unless you want milk or sugar, then it can get as pricey as 6 cordobas. Class is a lot of discussion which helps widen my vocabulary and improve my grammar. There's three spanish teachers, and every week the three spanish classes rotate. So, the first week I had Myrna, last week was Araceli, and next week Ramon will be my professor. Also, twice a week we have conversation partners. These partners are students at the UCA who are paid to talk with us for an hour. I never really know what to say to my partner, Margarita--I think she sees herself as a teacher more than a peer. So our interchange is a bit unidirectional. She's majoring in "bancofinancia," and is pretty much always busy. I asked her how she was going to celebrate la semana patria, and she seemed surprised at the idea. Still, I'm happy to have someone to practice my spanish on.
After class is out, I have lunch somewhere. A couple very enterprising students in the group have found some great comedors--on thursday we went to a vegetarian eatery, which included some very delicious soy burgers. I don't think I've ever gone to the same place more than twice. And the price is never more than 35 cordobas. That's maybe $1.50. Lunch is usually rice, beans, chopped up cabbage (soaked in vinegar to ensure cleanliness), a banana, and some kind of meat. It sounds more boring in text. You have to imagine plastic square tables and red plastic chairs, the smell of diesel and whatever sugary beverage you managed to order (on thursday, mine tasted exactly like therma-flu). There's always some sensory overload during lunch.
In the afternoons, I have class with Aynn and Guillermo on the CIES campus. This is fairly close to my neighborhood, which is good because the sun begins to set about the time class ends, so it's a safer campus to leave from. Aynn teaches a field study seminar every Monday, and Guillermo leads the Revolution, Transformation, and Civil Society seminar, which has always been lectures and presentations from other people on topics surrounding Nicaraguan politics. Last week has been really interesting. First, Guillermo talked to us about his experiences during the revolution and later fighting the contras. Then a Contra commandante talked to us about his point of view. And on Thursday, we heard from a man who fought the sandinistas, basically because he thought he was true sandinista and the ones in power were too marxst-leninist. There's always a question and answer session as well, and I've managed to ask a question every time. Don't know if they were all that good, but I like that I'm involved.
After that, I go back the the SIT center, which is just a few blocks from my house, to do homework. Electricity was off from 5-10 this week, and next week that will change to 2-7, which makes far more sense in regards to lights sources. SIT has a couple electric lamps, so I use them. Then I go home to the pulperia, have rice and beans for supper, and talk Edu outside of her store for a few hours.
Sometimes, I'll go to a concert or two during the week. I went to a fundraiser for the hurricane on Tuesday, which mostly featured (mostly bad) folk singers. On Thursday I went to a different hurricane fundraiser to see the pop band Perrozonpopos, which reminded me of Jack Johnson. Except there were something like two bass players, a synthesizer, a drum set, and an electric violin as well as a lad back guitar player man.
I think that sums up my life. Any questions?
Here's my daily routine. I wake up at around 7:00-ish, probably earlier thanks to a rather enterprising rooster next door. Since the water shuts off at 8:00, I make sure to take a shower soon after I wake up. I'm not sure exactly how the water system works in the house. Edu fills up buckes to the brim every morning so there's ample amounts for the rest of the day. There's even a barrel in the shower, so if I miss the water hours, I could always take a bucket bath. Then I have breakfast, usually rice, beans, and a banana.
At around 8:30, I start walking to the UCA. Usually I go with a few other people from the SIT group, and we take a route known 'round here as the Zig-Zag, preferred for its scenic beauty and lack of pedestrian-unfriendly superhighways. Depending on who I walk with, this can take between 20 and 40 minutes. Taxis are constantly beeping at us--their way of inquiring if we want a lift-- and men regularly shout out piropos, or catcalls, at the women. The best way to deal with this is to ignore it, reactions of any kind just make it worse. But then of course you occasionally ignore someone who genuinely is wishing you a "buen dia." But that's life.
Spanish class goes from 9-12:30, with a break at around 11:00. At this point I usually buy instant coffee from a little convenience store on campus. It costs 3 cordobas, which works out to about 1 penny. Unless you want milk or sugar, then it can get as pricey as 6 cordobas. Class is a lot of discussion which helps widen my vocabulary and improve my grammar. There's three spanish teachers, and every week the three spanish classes rotate. So, the first week I had Myrna, last week was Araceli, and next week Ramon will be my professor. Also, twice a week we have conversation partners. These partners are students at the UCA who are paid to talk with us for an hour. I never really know what to say to my partner, Margarita--I think she sees herself as a teacher more than a peer. So our interchange is a bit unidirectional. She's majoring in "bancofinancia," and is pretty much always busy. I asked her how she was going to celebrate la semana patria, and she seemed surprised at the idea. Still, I'm happy to have someone to practice my spanish on.
After class is out, I have lunch somewhere. A couple very enterprising students in the group have found some great comedors--on thursday we went to a vegetarian eatery, which included some very delicious soy burgers. I don't think I've ever gone to the same place more than twice. And the price is never more than 35 cordobas. That's maybe $1.50. Lunch is usually rice, beans, chopped up cabbage (soaked in vinegar to ensure cleanliness), a banana, and some kind of meat. It sounds more boring in text. You have to imagine plastic square tables and red plastic chairs, the smell of diesel and whatever sugary beverage you managed to order (on thursday, mine tasted exactly like therma-flu). There's always some sensory overload during lunch.
In the afternoons, I have class with Aynn and Guillermo on the CIES campus. This is fairly close to my neighborhood, which is good because the sun begins to set about the time class ends, so it's a safer campus to leave from. Aynn teaches a field study seminar every Monday, and Guillermo leads the Revolution, Transformation, and Civil Society seminar, which has always been lectures and presentations from other people on topics surrounding Nicaraguan politics. Last week has been really interesting. First, Guillermo talked to us about his experiences during the revolution and later fighting the contras. Then a Contra commandante talked to us about his point of view. And on Thursday, we heard from a man who fought the sandinistas, basically because he thought he was true sandinista and the ones in power were too marxst-leninist. There's always a question and answer session as well, and I've managed to ask a question every time. Don't know if they were all that good, but I like that I'm involved.
After that, I go back the the SIT center, which is just a few blocks from my house, to do homework. Electricity was off from 5-10 this week, and next week that will change to 2-7, which makes far more sense in regards to lights sources. SIT has a couple electric lamps, so I use them. Then I go home to the pulperia, have rice and beans for supper, and talk Edu outside of her store for a few hours.
Sometimes, I'll go to a concert or two during the week. I went to a fundraiser for the hurricane on Tuesday, which mostly featured (mostly bad) folk singers. On Thursday I went to a different hurricane fundraiser to see the pop band Perrozonpopos, which reminded me of Jack Johnson. Except there were something like two bass players, a synthesizer, a drum set, and an electric violin as well as a lad back guitar player man.
I think that sums up my life. Any questions?
Sunday, September 9, 2007
random happenings
So I´ve been trying to learn more about my host mom´s history. This is what I´ve got so far.
Eduviges (Edu for short) grew up in Managua. When she was 12, she went to a pueblo near Matagalpa to teach as part of the Literacy Crusade. I´m fairly certain she was the only one of her family to go. This was a voluntary program started by the Sandinistas shortly after the revolution against the Somoza dictatorship. The Crusade was so successful it won an award of some sort from the UN. And my mom was one of those teachers. When she was 12.
After that, her family began hosting American students when she was 16. At first her dad didn´t want students, as they represented imperialism, even though her mom was for the idea. At the last minute, one student had no place to stay, so after Edu said she was fine with the idea, the student moved in. Her dad didn´t talk to him for three days. Finally, he started making a bit of small talk, and learned the student was a farmer, just like he had been before living in Managua. It was magical after that.
And I have a vague idea of what she did afterwards. She lived somewhere not in Managua, working in a feminist organization to help women support themselves. This involved things like microcredit and sexual health, I belive.
After her parents died, she decided to come back to Managua--she had missed it. She opened her little convenience store and has been here for at least 4 years, in the same house her parents lived in. I think.
I´m beginning to see just how little I´m remembering what people tell me. I always understand my mother, I´m just not taking it in. This is rather frustrating.
This past weekend, I almost went to Omatepe, which is the island in the Nicaragua Lake. It was formed by two volcanoes and looks a bit like an hourglass. I was up at 4:30 in the morning, waiting for the rest of us who wanted to go, and as the minutes went by, it felt more and more like a bad idea. The group was fairly big, about 7 people, which usually makes for a frustrating time when it comes to decision making or hotel-room-renting. I had no idea what the plan was , and to make things worse, Ally´s host mom, who had decided to accompany us to the waiting place for some reason, said there weren´t taxis this early. So we had no way to get us to the bus stop. And we didn´t really know when the bus left anyway. So, I got the heebie jeebies and went back home.
I still don´t know what to think about that. Lately, whenever I go ahead and do something because I´m afraid I´ll regret it, I end up regretting that very decision. So on the one hand, I wish I had gone. On the other, I´m also sure I would not have enjoyed myself while there. Is that a self fulfilling prophecy? In this case I doubt it. There were too many factors that had been freaking me out. Still, it was a tough decision. But we have a three day weekend coming up, and I´m sure I can plan something out for that.
I´ve been thinking over my independent study project however, and I would like to work with coffee farmers. I know there´s a female cooperative somewhere, and I´d enjoy living there and researching the dynamics of the organization. But I´ll need to talk to Aynn, the academic director, for additional direction.
In other news, my spanish still sucks. Writing in english right now probably isn´t helping. But I´ll be at the UCA (the university) an hour early for additional time with my teacher, and I´ve got another wonderfully long week of spanish ahead of me. Wish me luck.
Eduviges (Edu for short) grew up in Managua. When she was 12, she went to a pueblo near Matagalpa to teach as part of the Literacy Crusade. I´m fairly certain she was the only one of her family to go. This was a voluntary program started by the Sandinistas shortly after the revolution against the Somoza dictatorship. The Crusade was so successful it won an award of some sort from the UN. And my mom was one of those teachers. When she was 12.
After that, her family began hosting American students when she was 16. At first her dad didn´t want students, as they represented imperialism, even though her mom was for the idea. At the last minute, one student had no place to stay, so after Edu said she was fine with the idea, the student moved in. Her dad didn´t talk to him for three days. Finally, he started making a bit of small talk, and learned the student was a farmer, just like he had been before living in Managua. It was magical after that.
And I have a vague idea of what she did afterwards. She lived somewhere not in Managua, working in a feminist organization to help women support themselves. This involved things like microcredit and sexual health, I belive.
After her parents died, she decided to come back to Managua--she had missed it. She opened her little convenience store and has been here for at least 4 years, in the same house her parents lived in. I think.
I´m beginning to see just how little I´m remembering what people tell me. I always understand my mother, I´m just not taking it in. This is rather frustrating.
This past weekend, I almost went to Omatepe, which is the island in the Nicaragua Lake. It was formed by two volcanoes and looks a bit like an hourglass. I was up at 4:30 in the morning, waiting for the rest of us who wanted to go, and as the minutes went by, it felt more and more like a bad idea. The group was fairly big, about 7 people, which usually makes for a frustrating time when it comes to decision making or hotel-room-renting. I had no idea what the plan was , and to make things worse, Ally´s host mom, who had decided to accompany us to the waiting place for some reason, said there weren´t taxis this early. So we had no way to get us to the bus stop. And we didn´t really know when the bus left anyway. So, I got the heebie jeebies and went back home.
I still don´t know what to think about that. Lately, whenever I go ahead and do something because I´m afraid I´ll regret it, I end up regretting that very decision. So on the one hand, I wish I had gone. On the other, I´m also sure I would not have enjoyed myself while there. Is that a self fulfilling prophecy? In this case I doubt it. There were too many factors that had been freaking me out. Still, it was a tough decision. But we have a three day weekend coming up, and I´m sure I can plan something out for that.
I´ve been thinking over my independent study project however, and I would like to work with coffee farmers. I know there´s a female cooperative somewhere, and I´d enjoy living there and researching the dynamics of the organization. But I´ll need to talk to Aynn, the academic director, for additional direction.
In other news, my spanish still sucks. Writing in english right now probably isn´t helping. But I´ll be at the UCA (the university) an hour early for additional time with my teacher, and I´ve got another wonderfully long week of spanish ahead of me. Wish me luck.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Orientation Complete
So, I have finished my first 7 days or so in Nicaragua. I am orientated. I am trying to write in English with a keyboard configured for Spanish. I have no idea where to find apostrophes. It is a bit odd, and makes for choppy writing.
Anywho, I have a host mom, Eduviges, who owns a small convenience store (pulperia) attached to her house. I have two host siblings. Heyling, female, 10 years old, and Edubar, male, 7 years old. Edubar is ridiculously shy, but Heyling likes to talk to me and help me out when I start fumbling my Spanish. It is a pretty quite house compared to other people in the group, but I like it. Also, my host mom talks nice and slow, taking care to use words I understand. This is not the case in my Spanish class and my seminar.
The seminar is going to be pretty frustrating for a while. I am in level 1 Spanish, which is the lowest tier. So while I know I will be a lot better by the end of the semester, I am really struggling at the moment. This is rather unpleasant. Hopefully, this helps how I interact with foreign exchange students in the future. I wonder if I can turn this into a Writing Center presentation?
Managua. There probably will not be many pictures of this city, since I do not want my camera stolen. Maybe pictures of my neighborhood, Maximo Jerez, will happen. But here is a description. (I do not know where the colon key is either. I am surprised how much a simple apostrophe helped my flow. Or it was a cheat. No, definetly keeps a paper suave (smooth).)
The houses consist of a solid concrete wall bordering the sidewalks. You know when one house ends and another begins thanks to the different paint colors. Everything is on one floor, as far as I know. This is probably mostly a low income thing, but could also be from the 1972 earthquake. Most people have front porches that double as garages occasionally, with several rocking chairs behind a solid metal gate that stretches from the floor to the ceiling. My host moms pulperia has something similar to a metal garage door to keep it secure. The colonia (neighborhood) has a little park in the center, with multicolored swings, monkey bars, and slides. It also has a basketball park, where I hear teenagers gather for games. Due to all this concern for safety, it is hard to convince myself to explore the area. No doubt there are cute little andens (pedestrian streets) yet to be explored, with imaginative color combinations on the houses and adorable children playing in the streets.
Food is always an adventure. Lunch is the biggest meal of the day, and for around $2, one can get quite a spread. The fare is carb heavy, what with the rice and tortillas, which can lead to a mid afternoon crash if one does not look out. Fortunately, coffee is offered at around this time for my afternoon class, so I have no problems.
I will try to remember some of my funnier bilingual moments in the future. For now, take care not to mistake infierno for fuego. Infierno is an adjective pertaining to hell, which is not quite accurate when trying to talk about firemen in my Spanish class.
Anywho, I have a host mom, Eduviges, who owns a small convenience store (pulperia) attached to her house. I have two host siblings. Heyling, female, 10 years old, and Edubar, male, 7 years old. Edubar is ridiculously shy, but Heyling likes to talk to me and help me out when I start fumbling my Spanish. It is a pretty quite house compared to other people in the group, but I like it. Also, my host mom talks nice and slow, taking care to use words I understand. This is not the case in my Spanish class and my seminar.
The seminar is going to be pretty frustrating for a while. I am in level 1 Spanish, which is the lowest tier. So while I know I will be a lot better by the end of the semester, I am really struggling at the moment. This is rather unpleasant. Hopefully, this helps how I interact with foreign exchange students in the future. I wonder if I can turn this into a Writing Center presentation?
Managua. There probably will not be many pictures of this city, since I do not want my camera stolen. Maybe pictures of my neighborhood, Maximo Jerez, will happen. But here is a description. (I do not know where the colon key is either. I am surprised how much a simple apostrophe helped my flow. Or it was a cheat. No, definetly keeps a paper suave (smooth).)
The houses consist of a solid concrete wall bordering the sidewalks. You know when one house ends and another begins thanks to the different paint colors. Everything is on one floor, as far as I know. This is probably mostly a low income thing, but could also be from the 1972 earthquake. Most people have front porches that double as garages occasionally, with several rocking chairs behind a solid metal gate that stretches from the floor to the ceiling. My host moms pulperia has something similar to a metal garage door to keep it secure. The colonia (neighborhood) has a little park in the center, with multicolored swings, monkey bars, and slides. It also has a basketball park, where I hear teenagers gather for games. Due to all this concern for safety, it is hard to convince myself to explore the area. No doubt there are cute little andens (pedestrian streets) yet to be explored, with imaginative color combinations on the houses and adorable children playing in the streets.
Food is always an adventure. Lunch is the biggest meal of the day, and for around $2, one can get quite a spread. The fare is carb heavy, what with the rice and tortillas, which can lead to a mid afternoon crash if one does not look out. Fortunately, coffee is offered at around this time for my afternoon class, so I have no problems.
I will try to remember some of my funnier bilingual moments in the future. For now, take care not to mistake infierno for fuego. Infierno is an adjective pertaining to hell, which is not quite accurate when trying to talk about firemen in my Spanish class.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)