crash course in relief/crashing with relief

At this time last week the headline on the Nuevo Diario read OLAS FUERTES, and indeed there were many strong waves that hit the coast of Nicaragua last week, destroying many homes from Jiquilillo down to Corinto on the northwestern coast and leaving hundreds of people homeless and without food. Within 24 hours, I was given my first major assignment since I began working here in Managua. The task? Travel to Chinandega, the nearest big city to the coast, meet the relief team being organized by a local pastor named Osvaldo and his wife Rosie, represent FHI, document the work done in the community, and send a report to the FHI office in DC which released some funds toward this project.

I arrived in Chinandega (a place I had never been before, I might add) about 8:30am last Friday morning and called Osvaldo who came with his family to pick me up at the On the Run on the edge of town. After a quick breakfast, some small talk, and a visit to a partnering Christian clinic to pick up medical supplies, we hit the road. And it literally felt like we were in fact hitting the road...because the road to Jiquilillo (45 minutes away) is about the most jarring experience I think I have ever had traveling anywhere. Imagine swerving every 50 feet to avoid a pothole, and hitting another one in the process. I was sure the axles on the pickup truck we were driving were going to give out any second, but eventually we made it.

Jiquilillo is a small fishing community of about 200 people who were all evacuated in time to avoid serious injury, thanks to a new early warning system in the area. The destruction was nothing compared to the tsunami or Katrina, but it was still shocking to see uprooted trees and debris everywhere, empty holes where the corner posts of houses had stood, and most amazingly, the remains of cement structures now partially submerged in the ocean.

We brought a bag of non-perishable food for each of the families in the community, coloring books and crayons for the children, and a small medical team (a doctor, nurse, dentist, and pharmicist). It took a little while for word to get out that we were there, as the community is pretty spread out with people living in temporary housing all over the place, but things picked up around 11am and it was non-stop until about 4pm. The whole process was very organized thanks to the presence of a woman from the government's Family Ministry who checked families off as they came, so we knew we were giving the right people food. During those 5 hours, we saw almost everyone in town, from the abuelitas to the babies (94 patients). Some memorable moments...talking with a man who owns much of the property along the new waterfront and seeing a destroyed latrine...meeting a 14 year old pregnant girl...watching people come out of the dental area with clothes over their mouths after having a tooth removed...eating fried fish with lime and Coke for lunch...

When we got back to Chinandega late that afternoon, it was too late for me to travel back to Managua and arrive before dark, so Osvaldo and Rosie invited me to stay at their house...which is rather like a small school/adoption center because of the number of people who live there. But I'm jumping ahead. You might think think that after 12 hours of relief work, the day would be over. In fact, it was just beginning. Rosie needed to pick up the kids from the youth group held at a nearby school, so we stopped there. Then, about 5 other kids needed rides home, so we took a trip down to one of the poorest sections of Chinandega, Limonal. This community is the saddest place I have visited yet in Nicaragua. Sandwiched between a dump and a cemetery, Limonal is the result of the relocation of 100+ people after Hurricane Mitch, since which have been totally neglected by the government. Dirt roads, houses primarily made of plastic, and just a sense of hopelessness overwhelmed me as we drove through. Still, the children smile and play as if they were living on Main Street. Sometimes their resilience floors me. What else can it be but the grace of God, descending on a place that to everyone else is a dark, depressing, abandoned junkyard?

Finally after several more errands and a quick dinner with a friend of Rosie's, we were home. Soon I was showered and with the residue of the day slowly percolating in my brain, I drifted off to sleep.

Did I mention it was about 100 degrees in Chinandega (and there is no air conditioning)? Thus, fans are a common comfort, even at night there. However, in my physically weakened state, I actually got cold, and then as the night wore on, realized that I was probably going to be sick in the morning. I wish it had just been a cold, but it fact it turned out to be a stomach virus that kept me in bed until almost noon, with the except of a few trips to the bathroom.

Thankfully, I eventually felt just well enough to brave the 2 hour microbus ride back down to Managua. It turned out I had just enough stamina to get through that and the 15 minute city bus trip to Las Brisas (where my house is), because I immediately crashed when I reach my bed. I was grateful for the opportunity to meet Oswaldo and Rosie, see Chinandega, and serve those who lost so much, but at that moment, I was most grateful for the opportunity to sleep.