Monday, November 28, 2011

New Home



The move from my training town to my new site in the northern mountains of Nicaragua took place on Thanksgiving day.  And it was an ordeal even though the transportation part proceeded without a hitch.  The problem was with the hugely heavy and ungainly suitcase I had to schlep along with an overstuffed back-pack and weighty day pack.  The source of all this weight was not simply my clothes but also the ton of material PC thinks I need.  I agree I need it but moving it all required transfers from taxi to bus to taxi to taxi to bus and finally into my pueblo at the top of a steep hill.  I managed it all with the kindness of strangers, and when I got here my host dad met me on the highway with his “friend” a guy who lifted probably 70 pounds of suitcase on his back and walked it up to the house while my host dad and I hefted the packs.
Thanks giving dinner consisted of a tortilla wrapped around a piece of guajara (type of salty cheese) which I bought and ate on the bus from Managua.  I add this detail not to make anyone feel sorry for me (I don’t feel sorry for myself) but to show that I’ve learned how to manage. I’ve started to get a little organized, to get out and meet a few people at the local pulperias that sell the few things I bought to start cooking for myself.  Today my site mate, a health volunteer, who sadly will only be here for 4 months or so, took me to the nearest large town to hit the bank and to buy some food for the week.  So I am ready to cook for myself—oatmeal, pineapple, a few veggies, some peanut butter and wheat bread, and yoghurt.  In another week, after I get the hang of things, maybe I’ll try a preparing a real meal, but I need to figure out the rhythms of the house first—when the kitchen is used, when I can do my wash without taking up limited line space, in what order it’s best to get a shower in the morning.  I’ve arranged to meet with each of my Nicaraguan counterpart teachers next week,  And next week I’ll get back  to work on my Spanish. For now I’m trying to take it a little easy.
This is a beautiful town.  It’s amazing what mountains do for a place.  The mountains here are more like foothills, really sharply peaked and covered in vegetation.  I’d like to learn the geology. There are lots of nice vistas. The town is muy tranquilo.  In the night and mornings—actuaslly now that I listen all day long--, the roosters set up a competition (or maybe they are just saying hi).  One starts, his neighbor picks up. And the next one and so forth till the first one (under my window) starts again.  It seems that every  house has a big parrot in a cage.  The chickens sometimes roost in trees and are very pretty there. Today while my site mate and I were talking by the side of the road, a small parrot appeared between her legs.  She bent over and he hopped on her finger.  She went to put him up on a tree branch when a woman came running out.  He had apparently escaped from the house but he hopped on the woman’s finger to return home—another Nica moment.
I’m glad for this time to rest up.  Training has been full and when school starts in early February I’ll be very busy again.  These two months are for Spanish and for talking to people the best I can and for figuring out—or starting to—what I can do here to help.  




New Home

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Being Official

Yesterday I and my group of 33 trainees sang two national anthems (Nica and US), took two vows (one in Spanish and one in English) shook hands with the U.S. charge d’affairs and signed on as volunteers. (If you want to  see the Nica news report of the ceremony, go to YouTube and enter “ pc on the news”.  It’s a news spot one of us filmed from the TV,  and there’s lots of volunteer party noise in the background.  I am in one brief shot at the end). The ceremony took place in a Holiday Inn in Managua and our host families were invited and feted for their invaluable help. Each volunteer individually presented a printed certificate to host moms and posed for a picture.  It was really nice to see our crew, all cleaned up for the occasion, with their much shorter host moms.  Whatever else happens here, the connection to and among these families is the best diplomacy. I would trust my family to take care of me any time, and to always be glad to have me come back to visit.  It’s an amazing capacity for hospitality and generosity these families show.
 Some in our group felt that even a place as ordinary as a Holiday Inn was too grandiose a setting and could make our host families feel intimidated and poor. Actually the Holiday Inn was humble in comparison to the US embassy which we visited on Thursday after a lot of security to-do.  The Embassy is relatively new and when you’re in it you are in the US.  Everyone speaks English, even the Nica security guards.  There’s a contingent of Marines. There is a store where we volunteers, in a pathetic show of need, stocked up on chocolate, Snickers bars in particular.  Although they brought in pizza for lunch, I managed to buy a real cappuchino at the cafeteria. I was so happy to have that flavor again, especially when combined with a peanut M and M. 
I got side-tracked by food.  I swore I wouldn’t do that.  Volunteers spend a good deal of time talking about food, what they are eating at home, what they miss, how they plan to feed themselves at their sites.  It’s the most popular topic.  Speaking of which, after we swore in, we were invited to the home of the county director for Thanksgiving dinner, a week early. We had massive quantities of bean dip, salsa and guacamole.  We had real delicious turkey and pies with whipped cream.  We had sangria. The director’s house is lovely.  We were outside without mosquitos in her beautiful garden.  A wonderful end to a wonderful day.
We stayed in a pretty nice hotel in Managua for two days, enjoying warm showers and air conditioning for the first time in this country.  We could watch CNN. There was free wifi.  I found all of this a little hard, a hint of culture shock to come.  I didn’t really want to be in this world.  But having said that enjoyed the shower.  This morning everyone departed.  There were a lot of tears as people went off by themselves to their sites.  I admit to having been close to tears a lot over the last 2 days.  I think it was the culmination part, and the going alone part, and the great struggle that was  training was a part of it too.    We trainees were, after all, the only folks from home we knew for 3 months and it was hard saying good bye. 
But there’s adventure ahead. The next post will be from my new site.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

My Pueblo, Revisited



Now that I have a less than a week in my pueblo before swearing in and moving north, I’m getting a little nostalgic.  Part of it is the fabulous weather, sunny and warm with constant breezes.  This is winter in Nicaragua and it’s a pleasure to walk around in it.  Last week I was assigned by my language facilitator to interview a resident of the pueblo about how life was 40 years ago in this town.  I visited Dona Petrona, my host mom’s older sister.  Dona Petrona was a safe interviewee, having hosted twenty-some volunteers herself.  She knows how to slow down for us.  The interview consisted of several questions, but after the first few, Dona Petrona wanted to talk about her life with the volunteers and in particular how sad she was when each volunteer left her house.  This is a lady muy carinosa and her heart breaks when she loses a volunteer, so much so that she takes to her bed for a few days until she recovers.  She told me a story about a black volunteer who lived with her and then moved on to her site.  The volunteer called Dona Petrona in tears because her new host mom rejected her because of the color of her skin.  Dona Petrona reminded the volunteer of a song she had sung to her during her training about an angel with black skin who was taken up to heaven.  The volunteer hadn’t understood the song at the time, but when Dpna Petrona sang it for her again over the phone, the volunteered cried and thanked Petrona for reminding her of the song.   I was happily diverted from my interview by these stories and had to return the next day to finish up.
  When I got there Dona Petrona had some fabulous, truly amazing sorbete for me, some fruit flavor and a real treat.  We finished the interview and I was asking her about the various barrios around my pueblo.  I’ve always wondered who lives there.  Petrona offered to show me the next day. I showed up on Wednesday and we started to walk out of town.  The paved roads changed to dirt as we came to the first of two barrios.  In both there was a greater population of the poor than in the pueblo.  We passed many house with dirt floors, outside kitchens with wood fires, children playing outside in the dirt.  But we also passed some neat little family compounds consisting of a house and several reed  or stick out-buildings roofed with thatch.  At one someone called out to Petrona to come in.  We did and a toothless woman named Consuela gave me a big hug as did her husband, a very old and leathery looking man named something Angelo.  It’s normal to hug on first contact in Nicaragua but I still am a bit awkward with this but should’t be at my age.  Three generations live in this compound all cooking and eating together and taking care of each other.  This is what happens in Nicaragua.  Thje family is always there if you get sick or lose your job or   need any kind of help.   I met Consuela’s daughter making tortillas on the outside wood fire stove.
The best thing is to walk with someone like Dona Petrona.  She knows everyone and in between houses she tells me their stories.  We came upon 4 or five children—about 7 years of age—playing in the road. Two little boys were building a kite from sticks and plastic bags.  Petrona stopped to talk to the two little girls.  It seems she heard one of them use a bad word.  In the nicest possible way she told them that such words were not good for them  This was because the words were ugly and the girls were so beautiful.  The girls ducked their heads and giggled, but Petrona kept talking.  They knew she meant it.  She is privileged to correct other people’s children.  He stature, this culture, bestows the privilege.
I saw so much on our hour walk.  I heard PC say we should get people to walk around with us in our site, but didn’t get it until I saw it in action.  I get stuck on my norteamericano values—how would you ever ask someone to walk you around town in the U. S.  But I thinks it’s a kind of honor to be asked, acknowledgement to the person asked that s/he has importance.  And there is nothing like being introduced by an insider.  It’s a win/win.  I’ll do it right away and often in my new site.
Anyway, my days with Dona Petrona made me nostalgic for my pueblo.  How many other great people would I have met had I not been embarrassed of my poor Spanish and studying all the time? My host mom and I are comadres, language notwithstanding.  We will miss each other.  I am easy to be around.  I know how to disappear when needed.  I think I was easy for my family to live with.  I’ll miss my host dad, too with his jokes and willingness to try to explain as simply as possible complicated subjects like the influence of world debt on labor in Nicaragua.  I had a great time here.  And it’s clear I can come back for a visit any time I want.

My Pueblo, Revisited

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Objectives and Dogs



I’ve been thinking about this blog and I have a couple of disclaimers I want to make..  There are some constraints on writing that I’m afraid may leave a false impression.  First, although the national election is today and the politics in Nicaragua are intensely interesting, PC has a policy of strict neutrality when it comes to any political expression, which as far as I can see, means no expression at all.  It would be hard to talk about politics without betraying an opinion, so saying nothing is the best course.  Second, I don’t want to write anything that would offend an average honest Nicaraguan.  There are hard things to see in this country and they are especially visible to people who aren’t used to them. I’ll write about one below: dogs. Until I understand something better I hesitate to describe it because I’m afraid my norteamericano response would leave a false impression.  As a result sometimes I worry that what I write will sound like a travel brochure full of quaintness and local color. Enough said on that topic. Reader beware.
We are heading into the last 2 weeks of training.  The final language evaluations are next Friday.  I have made my peace with them.  I know what I know and no more at this time.  PC is sponsoring a workshop for teachers and each training group has to prepare a 1 ½ hour charla, on a subject regarding the teaching of English.  My group is talking about lesson planning, and my part in particular is objective writing.  This doesn’t sound too interesting as a topic, but it is to me. I have become a little passionate about how we teachers use the students’ valuable classroom time.  Especially here, where time is so hard to come by.
For example, I learned yesterday that there are 220 school days in Nicaragua.  Officially.  Compare that to the 180 days usual in the U.S. But those 220 days don’t happen, especially for English class.  To begin, English class meets on average for one 2 hour class and one hour class per week, compared to other subjects that meet daily.  And in fact, English classes last 1 ½ hours and 45 minutes respectively, for a total of 2 ¼ hours per week of English instruction. Secondly, school often doesn’t happen.  For instance, this week there was one day of school.  Why? A holiday ( Day of the Dead), a political meeting for teachers, and two days related to the use of schools as voting places.  This is an unusual time, but school is cancelled for all kinds of reasons. In a lecture yesterday a representative of the department of education said that actually there are 70 class meetings for an English class in the year, about a third of the school days and from what I understand that is optimistic (I’ll bet he doesn’t count the days when school is closed for torrential rain).  As a result, I am on a tear about using that remaining class time as well as possible.  And that means a special obligation to get the purpose of those few classes clear. Hence, my topic: writing objectives.
Nicaragua is beautiful right now.  We are entering “winter”. The days are nicely warm but right now there is less humidity and it actually gets cool at night.  My family thinks it’s cold, but I think it’s fine.
My birthday was last Thursday and I got more celebration than I thought. PC is all over birthdays so I got text congratulations from my jefe and others.  Then my family celebrated by—are you ready for this—having a pizza motorcycled in from the nearest city.  It was served to me with a traditional birthday drink made for me alone, chiche de jenjibre, made of ginger finely ground, rice, canelo (cinnamon) and coco.  It clears the sinuses and was pretty refreshing.  The next day the training group met and my two 22 year old Texan sitemates rose to the occasion by buying a bag of candy for the group and for me 2 packages of microwave popcorn and a marshmallow and chocolate lollipop. They really surprised me with that one.  Everyone sang happy birthday and then I was taken out for beers after class.  An altogether satisfactory birthday.
Dogs.  Whenever you travel abroad you see street dogs.  Same here.  They are pathetic and skinny and not-neutered and really scruffy and dirty.  They are a part of the landscape and after a while you don’t notice them much.  We have three dogs at my house.  All day long they are tied up on short leashes in a place where there is shade and water.  They are fed. At night they are let loose to guard the house.  They bark at whomever comes along, usually only street dogs.  When I got here I was horrified about the dogs, including the dogs at my house which I was not allowed to touch because they did not know me.  Now I am not.  Our dogs have a better deal than street dogs.  They are free to roam around the yard for about 10 hours a day. The family doesn’t play with them, but they get shots and occasionally washed.  It seems a pretty good deal for them, given everything.  And in a place where there really are no extras, the dogs need to earn their keep. 
This blog isn’t nice and thematic. But I’m going to add a couple of pictures.  Just learned how to do it.  2 cute Nica babies:
 Me and volunteer Chris atop Masaya volcano in the rain:


I’ve been thinking about this blog and I have a couple of disclaimers I want to make..  There are some constraints on writing that I’m afraid may leave a false impression.  First, although the national election is today and the politics in Nicaragua are intensely interesting, PC has a policy of strict neutrality when it comes to any political expression, which as far as I can see, means no expression at all.  It would be hard to talk about politics without betraying an opinion, so saying nothing is the best course.  Second, I don’t want to write anything that would offend an average honest Nicaraguan.  There are hard things to see in this country and they are especially visible to people who aren’t used to them. I’ll write about one below: dogs. Until I understand something better I hesitate to describe it because I’m afraid my norteamericano response would leave a false impression.  As a result sometimes I worry that what I write will sound like a travel brochure full of quaintness and local color. Enough said on that topic. Reader beware.
We are heading into the last 2 weeks of training.  The final language evaluations are next Friday.  I have made my peace with them.  I know what I know and no more at this time.  PC is sponsoring a workshop for teachers and each training group has to prepare a 1 ½ hour charla, on a subject regarding the teaching of English.  My group is talking about lesson planning, and my part in particular is objective writing.  This doesn’t sound too interesting as a topic, but it is to me. I have become a little passionate about how we teachers use the students’ valuable classroom time.  Especially here, where time is so hard to come by.
For example, I learned yesterday that there are 220 school days in Nicaragua.  Officially.  Compare that to the 180 days usual in the U.S. But those 220 days don’t happen, especially for English class.  To begin, English class meets on average for one 2 hour class and one hour class per week, compared to other subjects that meet daily.  And in fact, English classes last 1 ½ hours and 45 minutes respectively, for a total of 2 ¼ hours per week of English instruction. Secondly, school often doesn’t happen.  For instance, this week there was one day of school.  Why? A holiday ( Day of the Dead), a political meeting for teachers, and two days related to the use of schools as voting places.  This is an unusual time, but school is cancelled for all kinds of reasons. In a lecture yesterday a representative of the department of education said that actually there are 70 class meetings for an English class in the year, about a third of the school days and from what I understand that is optimistic (I’ll bet he doesn’t count the days when school is closed for torrential rain).  As a result, I am on a tear about using that remaining class time as well as possible.  And that means a special obligation to get the purpose of those few classes clear. Hence, my topic: writing objectives.
Nicaragua is beautiful right now.  We are entering “winter”. The days are nicely warm but right now there is less humidity and it actually gets cool at night.  My family thinks it’s cold, but I think it’s fine.
My birthday was last Thursday and I got more celebration than I thought. PC is all over birthdays so I got text congratulations from my jefe and others.  Then my family celebrated by—are you ready for this—having a pizza motorcycled in from the nearest city.  It was served to me with a traditional birthday drink made for me alone, chiche de jenjibre, made of ginger finely ground, rice, canelo (cinnamon) and coco.  It clears the sinuses and was pretty refreshing.  The next day the training group met and my two 22 year old Texan sitemates rose to the occasion by buying a bag of candy for the group and for me 2 packages of microwave popcorn and a marshmallow and chocolate lollipop. They really surprised me with that one.  Everyone sang happy birthday and then I was taken out for beers after class.  An altogether satisfactory birthday.
Dogs.  Whenever you travel abroad you see street dogs.  Same here.  They are pathetic and skinny and not-neutered and really scruffy and dirty.  They are a part of the landscape and after a while you don’t notice them much.  We have three dogs at my house.  All day long they are tied up on short leashes in a place where there is shade and water.  They are fed. At night they are let loose to guard the house.  They bark at whomever comes along, usually only street dogs.  When I got here I was horrified about the dogs, including the dogs at my house which I was not allowed to touch because they did not know me.  Now I am not.  Our dogs have a better deal than street dogs.  They are free to roam around the yard for about 10 hours a day. The family doesn’t play with them, but they get shots and occasionally washed.  It seems a pretty good deal for them, given everything.  And in a place where there really are no extras, the dogs need to earn their keep. 
This blog isn’t nice and thematic. I was going to add a couple of pictures but my attempt failed.  I'll try to learn how next week.
 Me and volunteer Chris atop Masaya volcano in the rain:


I’ve been thinking about this blog and I have a couple of disclaimers I want to make..  There are some constraints on writing that I’m afraid may leave a false impression.  First, although the national election is today and the politics in Nicaragua are intensely interesting, PC has a policy of strict neutrality when it comes to any political expression, which as far as I can see, means no expression at all.  It would be hard to talk about politics without betraying an opinion, so saying nothing is the best course.  Second, I don’t want to write anything that would offend an average honest Nicaraguan.  There are hard things to see in this country and they are especially visible to people who aren’t used to them. I’ll write about one below: dogs. Until I understand something better I hesitate to describe it because I’m afraid my norteamericano response would leave a false impression.  As a result sometimes I worry that what I write will sound like a travel brochure full of quaintness and local color. Enough said on that topic. Reader beware.
We are heading into the last 2 weeks of training.  The final language evaluations are next Friday.  I have made my peace with them.  I know what I know and no more at this time.  PC is sponsoring a workshop for teachers and each training group has to prepare a 1 ½ hour charla, on a subject regarding the teaching of English.  My group is talking about lesson planning, and my part in particular is objective writing.  This doesn’t sound too interesting as a topic, but it is to me. I have become a little passionate about how we teachers use the students’ valuable classroom time.  Especially here, where time is so hard to come by.
For example, I learned yesterday that there are 220 school days in Nicaragua.  Officially.  Compare that to the 180 days usual in the U.S. But those 220 days don’t happen, especially for English class.  To begin, English class meets on average for one 2 hour class and one hour class per week, compared to other subjects that meet daily.  And in fact, English classes last 1 ½ hours and 45 minutes respectively, for a total of 2 ¼ hours per week of English instruction. Secondly, school often doesn’t happen.  For instance, this week there was one day of school.  Why? A holiday ( Day of the Dead), a political meeting for teachers, and two days related to the use of schools as voting places.  This is an unusual time, but school is cancelled for all kinds of reasons. In a lecture yesterday a representative of the department of education said that actually there are 70 class meetings for an English class in the year, about a third of the school days and from what I understand that is optimistic (I’ll bet he doesn’t count the days when school is closed for torrential rain).  As a result, I am on a tear about using that remaining class time as well as possible.  And that means a special obligation to get the purpose of those few classes clear. Hence, my topic: writing objectives.
Nicaragua is beautiful right now.  We are entering “winter”. The days are nicely warm but right now there is less humidity and it actually gets cool at night.  My family thinks it’s cold, but I think it’s fine.
My birthday was last Thursday and I got more celebration than I thought. PC is all over birthdays so I got text congratulations from my jefe and others.  Then my family celebrated by—are you ready for this—having a pizza motorcycled in from the nearest city.  It was served to me with a traditional birthday drink made for me alone, chiche de jenjibre, made of ginger finely ground, rice, canelo (cinnamon) and coco.  It clears the sinuses and was pretty refreshing.  The next day the training group met and my two 22 year old Texan sitemates rose to the occasion by buying a bag of candy for the group and for me 2 packages of microwave popcorn and a marshmallow and chocolate lollipop. They really surprised me with that one.  Everyone sang happy birthday and then I was taken out for beers after class.  An altogether satisfactory birthday.
Dogs.  Whenever you travel abroad you see street dogs.  Same here.  They are pathetic and skinny and not-neutered and really scruffy and dirty.  They are a part of the landscape and after a while you don’t notice them much.  We have three dogs at my house.  All day long they are tied up on short leashes in a place where there is shade and water.  They are fed. At night they are let loose to guard the house.  They bark at whomever comes along, usually only street dogs.  When I got here I was horrified about the dogs, including the dogs at my house which I was not allowed to touch because they did not know me.  Now I am not.  Our dogs have a better deal than street dogs.  They are free to roam around the yard for about 10 hours a day. The family doesn’t play with them, but they get shots and occasionally washed.  It seems a pretty good deal for them, given everything.  And in a place where there really are no extras, the dogs need to earn their keep. 
This blog isn’t nice and thematic. But I’m going to add a couple of pictures.  Just learned how to do it.  2 cute Nica babies:
 Me and volunteer Chris atop Masaya volcano in the rain:



 
Objectives and Dogs
 
Objectives and Dogs

Objectives and Dogs