Pensajes de Pamela

a new blog for a new chapter

2009-06-17T22:07:00.001-06:00

If you'd like to follow my adventures back in Texas, you can do so here:

pameladelcarmen.blogspot.com

at the end of a chapter

2009-05-02T19:34:00.003-06:00

“God is always speaking to us, and always teaching us, and obviously He wanted you to learn something today. So learn, and don´t look back. Don´t worry about mistakes. No one is perfect, no one has a script. At the end of the story, you´re going to be who you´re afraid to be.”

Those were the words spoken to me in July 2006 by Iskra, one of the girls who would become one of my closest Nica friends during these last 3 years. And I had almost forgotten about them until a timely comment by my friend Dawn brought them back to mind.

God is always speaking to us…always teaching us.

Even though I wasn’t always listening, God has taught me a lot since I left San Antonio three years ago—about Himself, about people, about culture, about development, about strength and weakness, about grace and forgiveness, about community, about love. Each of those deserves pages of reflection, which hopefully will come as I slowly try to process all that has happened in these last three years.

No one is perfect—no one has a script.

Even if I had the script before I started, I never would have believed it. Would I have believed that most fulfilling aspect of my work would simply be talking to Nicaraguans and sharing their stories with the world? Would I have believed that I would have seen ¾ of the country and been amazed by its beauty rather than crushed by its poverty? Would I have believed that I would feel the very farthest from God I have ever felt in my life in the middle of the most intentional time of service to Him? Would I have believed that my roommate would become my best friend—a friend for life?

Living cross-culturally exposed my weaknesses and frailty in ways I did not expect. But for all the mistakes I know I made, the thing that counts is—as I remember hearing long ago—not what you do, but what you do next. I can only hope that what I did “next” is what will be remembered.

You’re going to be who you’re afraid to be.

Fear keeps us from stepping out in faith. Fear keeps us from believing that God’s best is better than our well-thought-out plans. Fear keeps us from experiencing, living in, and sharing the plenitud [fullness] of God’s love. Fear keeps us from accepting our true identity and worth as beloved children of God in Christ.

A year ago, I was living in fear—fear of punishment for sin committed, fear of loving again, fear of being myself, fear that God’s purpose for my time in Nicaragua might never be fulfilled.

1 John tells us that “Perfect love drives out fear.” I’ve written before about how the unconditional love of a few friends and a new community of faith brought a genuine smile back to my face and joy to my heart. But not until this week did I realize that Iskra was right.

As one chapter ends and another begins, I have become the person I was meant to be.

Adelante!!!

quality time

2009-04-21T18:44:00.003-06:00

It's all I have left really--a few precious days to spend with all the people I love in this amazing country---and so that is what I have been doing. In between selling off my furniture and trying to figure out how to fit 3 years into 2 suitcases and organizing files and leaving things in a good place for the person who will take my place, I have been spending every other spare moment with dear, dear friends. And I couldn't be happier.

Maybe I'm still in denial that I'm really leaving, but, in a way, maybe it's better I save the sadness for the other side... when I can no longer look into their eyes and hear their voices daily...when the daily commute no longer involves fruit stands and crazy ayudantes....when instead of endless trees and sunsets, skyscrapers fill my horizon...when I no longer speak Spanish for 6-10 hours a day...when I can no longer buy gallo pinto off the street, when the radio no longer plays bachata, when the fresh green mountains are much further away than a 3 hour bus ride...

When I am home, but maybe never really home again.

esperanza verde

2009-04-16T09:20:00.004-06:00

In Spanish, it means "Green Hope", and indeed this farm high in the mountains of Matagalpa was a super green reprieve from the oppressive heat of Managua.

Andrea and I escaped for a couple days just before Easter--probably our last trip to the region together--and we had a wonderful time hiking all over the place, relaxing, reading, and reflecting, and drinking amazing coffee and eating delicious homecooked meals.

Unfortunately, my camera battery died like 3 hours after I got there, but here are some of the photos Andrea took. :-)

transitions

2009-04-04T19:00:00.004-06:00

I’ve been avoiding the obligatory “my whole life is changing” post for a while now, but with the one-month-left-in-Nicaragua marker having passed this week, I figure it’s time.

First, I have to say that the last 6-8 months of my life here have been amazing. Even in difficult or stressful work or cultural situations, I am truly happy here. I love my life. I love my roommates, the North American friends I have made, and my Nicaraguan friends in my office and in my church.

I love everything about this country—well, except for the recent oppressive heat, the dust, and the sketchy guys who made rude comments on my way to work—and I would come back in a heartbeat if God opened a door again down the road.

When I think about leaving, I get teary eyed. I think about all the amazing, faith-filled Nicaraguans I have met, people who have taught me so much with their love, their hospitality, their trust in a God who is bigger than the poverty that surrounds them. I think about the people who welcomed me into their homes and gave a bed and a meal without even really knowing me. I think about the breathtaking places I have gotten to see—volcanoes, beaches, mountains, rivers, colonial cities—and how sadly, so many Nicaraguans have never realized the beauty and richness of their own country.

I think about how my own faith has been challenged and stretched, strengthened and confirmed. I think about all the things I never thought I would ever do that God allowed me to do—from little things like ride a horse to bigger things like build trust-filled relationships with Nicaraguans. I think about the concrete things that maybe I am leaving behind just a little bit better than I found them, and the intangible things I may be leaving behind that I will never know about.

I think about how God has protected me—from serious illness, injury, crime and/or accidents. (Hmmm, except there was that one time with a motorcycle….). I think about how He has been faithful when I have been faithless.

And the most recent evidence of that faithfulness is the news two weeks ago that I was accepted to graduate school. For much of the last year, I wasn’t sure what I was going to be doing when I went back home, but now it’s settled. For those of you out there who didn’t see my Facebook message, I’ll be pursuing a Masters degree in Latin American Studies at the University of Texas in Austin beginning in August.

So, on May 1st, I will get on a plane back to Texas and begin a whole new chapter. And while the transition—which has already begun—will be hard, emotionally, spiritually, physically, and in all other ways—I am also happy as I prepare and look forward.

For I know in Whom I have believed, and I am confident that this story has a good, good end.

flores de nicaragua

2009-03-23T11:25:00.003-06:00

fotos de tierra tica

2009-03-04T16:05:00.003-06:00

En el barrio la Carpio cerca de San Jose/In a Nica neighborhood in San Jose we met Maria Jesus (green shirt) and her husband Alexis (a mason) and her family. Even though they've been living in Costa Rica over 10 years, life is still hard. Still, Alexis says, "Por que voy a quejar? (Why am I going to complain?) Dios me ha dado el aire sin limite. (God gives me air to breathe without limit).

A church in Cartago, the old capital/Una iglesia en Cartago, la vieja capital

Yes, we were above the clouds at Volcan Irazu/Estuvimos encima de las nubes en Volcan Irazu

La vista preciosa/The incredible view (looks a lot like Masaya Volcano from this angle, actually!)

Not sure what the green liquid in the center is...but it IS an active volcano

Me, my roommate Alicia, and the students in front of the crater

Not quite sure what this animal is, but it was hanging out in the parking lot

From the Precolumbian Gold Museum in San Jose--awesome!

A former Costa Rican president statue (the one who eliminated the CR military in 1948) looks out over the San Jose skyline as the flag waves in the distance.

beatrice

2009-02-21T21:51:00.005-06:00

“So justice is far from us, and right-eousness does not reach us. We look for light, but all is darkness; for brightness, but we walk in deep shadows…” (Is 59:9)

Today my heart walks in deep shadows and justice seems far off.

Justice IS far off for Beatrice—a woman who represents thousands unnamed others. A woman I met as the golden light of late afternoon bathes the western horizon, A woman who has been abandoned by her husband, and who is looked after only by her teenage daughter. A woman who lives in a partially constructed house on a hill in a dry northwestern pueblo, separated from the elements by a roof and a thin layer of plastic. A woman whose feet carry the dust of a dozen weekly trips to the clay-rich hills. A woman who spends all week making pottery to sell in the nearest market town Saturdays and Sundays, making $5-6 on which to feed herself and her daughter.

A woman whose conversion to Jesus has put a smile on her face and joy in her heart, but whose pain of rejection remains ever present, palpable in her faraway gaze. A woman who, together with her daughter, carefully guards the hope of a better future. In this future, her caring and servant hearted daughter Genny can go to school, can become a teacher, can fulfill her dreams. But this dream, which seems so simple--a mere $20 a month would cover her daughter’s travel and course materials—remains far off. Genny’s love for her mother shines in her eyes, in the tender way she holds her hand as they sit together on the hammock, and she will never pursue this goal while her mother needs her help to survive.

So, yes, tonight, I look for light, but my soul walks in deep shadows….thinking of Beatrice and Genny.

as the world spins madly on

2009-02-10T21:30:00.003-06:00

I know, I haven't been around much lately. The truth is, lately I've been much more interested in living my life here than writing about it. Because it's slowly but inevitably sinking in that I have just two and a half months left in Nicaragua. Believe me, I could tell you new versions of old stories about crazy bus rides, good food, enriching conversations, challenging tasks, inspiring people, political drama, tragic injustice, and reasons for hope...

But, for the moment, all I want to do is treasure every special moment in my heart, look at each person I meet deeply to remember every feature of their face, listen ever so carefully to every word spoken by friends, smell (almost) every odor that wafts through the air I breathe each day, and experience every second as if it truly could be my last in this land of lakes of volcanoes that I love so much.

So if you don't see much of me around these parts between now and May, please be patient with me. Many of the stories of these last few months may just have to wait to be told face to face.

2 JOHN 12

lo dichoso

2009-01-28T11:49:00.002-06:00

"Dichoso soy más que el árbol
(More blessed am I than a tree)

Porque este es apenas sensitivo,
(For it's barely sensitive)

Y más que la piedra dura, por que esta ya no siente
(And more than the hard stone, for it already does not feel)

Pues lo mas grande de ser vivo
(For the greatest part of being alive),

es que el dolor, no me quita lo vivo
(is that pain does not take away my life).

Y el mayor agrado es tener una vida consiente
(and the highest pleasure is a conscience-filled life);

Ser y saber quien soy
(to be and to know who I am),

por que existo y cual es mi propósito
(why I exist and what my purpose is)

Y la satisfacción de haber sido y un futuro seguro
(and the satisfaction of having been, and a secure future)

Y el sentimiento tranquilo pese a estar mañana muerto
(and a peaceful feeling despite being dead tomorrow)

Y disfrutar la vida, y su amanecer y lo que conozco
(and to enjoy life and its waking and what I know)

Y en lo que creo
(and in what I believe)

Y la vida que ofrece sus frescos racimos
(and life which offers its fresh clusters)

Y la tumba que aguarda hasta el día que vaya a mi breve descanso
(and the grave that waits for the day that I go to my brief rest).

Y saber a donde voy, y de quien vengo.
(and to know where I am going and from whom I come)"

-Ruben Dario, Nicaragua's most famous poet

a bottle's tale

2009-01-27T13:05:00.003-06:00

there once was a bottle named nalgene
who left managua one evening full and clean
on a journey across the forest green land
to serve with a small but energetic band

over bridges and rivers and many a hill
in the pitch black of night where all was so still
until finally the destination came into view
and bottle, like all, uttered a "whew!"

after a midmorning nap and a tasty lunch
it was off to paint for the motivated bunch
and the bottle changed hands many a time
growing increasing spotty with paint and grime

but this did not matter to the thirsty crowd
"where is it now," they wondered aloud
for the sun grew strong and the work more intense
conversations fell quiet and muscles grew tense

even so their spirits and joy were sustained
by daily gallo pinto and choral refrains
and the laughter and joking filled the coastal air
while with the paint they took not quite so much care

adorning their faces with shapes of all kinds
the banter was fierce and quick were their minds
and with paint covered hands they sought the bottle still
to quench their thirst and avoid falling ill

in the cool of the evening the nalgene had a wee bit of rest
for the group would sing songs and share prayer requests
by the light of their cell phones the scriptures together they read
and after a brief time of fellowship it was off to bed

by the end of the week the bottle's color had changed
from a dark musky green to spotted white and light orange
the many hands that had held it leaving evidence behind
that the days of work and play and growth were of a special kind

for the bottle held stories of sweat and smiles
of ladders climbed and traveled miles
of prayers spoken, bonds formed, and sweaters shared
of accidents, sickness, healing, and loving care

yet the nalgene's tale ends on a bittersweet note
for after a trip down the river on a motor boat
in the rush to get into town it was left all alone
"oh no, it's gone", her owner cried with a moan

but thankfully the memories live on in her photos and in her soul
back in managua, with her smile rich and her heart full

-pjn 1/27/09

Album here: http://www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2045656&l=db652&id=24902194

to Kukra hill

2009-01-18T16:18:00.003-06:00

Tonight I'm going on a journey I have never been on: a 5-6 hour bus ride across central Nicaragua to El Rama, where the highway ends. From there, I'll take a truck on roads barely passable another unknown quantity of hours to a community called Kukra Hill, just west of Bluefields (located on the Atlantic Ocean) in the RAAS (the Southern Atlantic Autonomous Region of Nicaragua).

Why? Kukra Hill is the site of a recent Baptist Church plant which I and 11 of my fellow jovenes from the First Baptist Church of Managua are going to support through painting/construction projects and outreach for the next 5 days, sharing the love of Christ in an integrated way with the people of this semi-rural community.

Unlike some areas of the Atlantic Coast where creolle English or Miskito (an indigenous language) is spoken, Spanish is the predominant language here. Most of the population is non-practicing (cultural) Catholic. Some people have animals. Most people live off the land, growing rice, beans, corn and plantains.

This will be my first time east of Matagalpa--and my first time to participate in a bi-cultural "mission trip" where Nicaraguans go to serve their fellow Nicaraguans. It will no doubt be an amazing learning experience, and I promise to share my stories and photos from the trip in this space when I return this coming Saturday.

Finally, since I will be away from internet in the meantime, I offer you this quote from a poem I recently read that fits with the events in my country this week, as well the one I currently call home.

"in the face of the intolerable
this is the time to insist
the time to become whole
and give back what you’ve learned in wholeness
eyelid of light
a disciplined gift of pure grace
for anyone who can breathe and for those
whose breath was stolen or just left them" -Kathy Engel, "Inaugural"

Peace.

recent days in photos

2009-01-15T10:21:00.004-06:00

Tuesday I was in Chinandega visiting a new community and gathering information for a report. Hopefully we will be starting a new Child Development Program there this spring. These are some the kids who followed me around as I accompanied the FH team who was also in the area doing home visits. They won my heart with their smiles and carefree love...

Over the weekend I attended the annual leadership formation "campamento" of CECNIC, the Nicaraguan version of IVCF. Above is the familia Mendoza (from L to R: Carlos, Julio, Josue, Aura, Yaoska--all brothers and sisters), special friends of mine from church who also have a history of involvement with the Christian college student movement here. They delighted their fellow students and recent graduates with rendition of popular protest music from Violeta Parra (Chile) during la noche cultural Saturday.

Me and Denisse, one of the students at the campamento who I also went to Mexico with this past July for a regional conference.

The campamento was held on the southern outskirts of Managua at a place called Villa Esperanza, which is actually a home for girls who are trying to make a better life for themselves than what's possible in La Chureca (the Managua dump). This is the view from the hill on the property. In the background is the "Loma de Nejapa", which I see every day on my way to and from the office.

the return of the butterflies

2009-01-03T07:49:00.002-06:00

In His time and in His love
even the deepest wound finds
a balm that soothes
even the darkest cave finds
a flame that illuminates
even the coldest night finds
a hearth that warms
even the most parched throat finds
a fountain of living water…
and even the loneliest soul
finds a kindred spirit who loves without condition.-pjn

In 2008, I was that woman who had been deeply wounded, who lived in dark caves, who despaired in cold nights of the soul, who longed for water in a dry and weary land. Who waited for love.

Looking back, I can clearly divide this past year into two parts—before and after my trip to Mexico in July. The first 6 months of 2008 were probably the hardest of my entire life….for various reasons that included a relationship-gone-bad, extreme homesickness, and the sensation of great distance from the Lord. During that time, I truly despaired of ever coming out of my emotional and spiritual valley.

But God is good and He knows what we need before we even know how to ask for it. When I went to Mexico with the Nica college students from CECNIC for a leadership formation conference, I wasn’t expecting a miracle—I was just hoping for a little encouragement. But what I got was so much more. While I was there, God broke through the layers of the dark cocoon where I had been hiding in my pain, and the seed of a friendship was planted that would help me decisively turn a corner in September and October in my relationship with Christ.

At the same time, I began to attend a new church where I made some new friends, a few of whom have become extremely close to me over the last 3 months. Healing has come in the form of relational vulnerability, the renewed sensation of belonging, and some tender brotherly love. My roomie told me last week that she could see that my joy has returned, and indeed it has. The process is not over yet, I know, but as 2009 begins, I feel the veracity of Paul’s words in my soul: “the old is gone, the new has come.”

Aleluia, the cocoon is gone, and the time of butterflies has come.

Happy New Year!

adventures with meara

2009-01-02T13:05:00.002-06:00

This past week while both my roommates were back in North America, I had the amazing blessing of a visit from my dear friend Meara from Dec. 26th til Jan 1st. We had many fun adventures, including a trip to two different volcanoes (Mombacho and Masaya), a visit to a community where FH works and to the house of a Nehemiah Center co-worker and family, a trek to the beach, a close call with some street fireworks, nd much, much more. A few photos are below; check out the full album here.

the last two weeks

2008-12-23T23:43:00.004-06:00

After the Christmas concert in the Teatro Nacional on December 16th with some of the choir members from my church

Me and my gorgeous roommates the night of the concert

Guatemala--Andrea and I took a quick trip to Lago Atitlan and Antigua the week before Christmas--the full album is here

Me and my friend Felix from church, who invited me to spend Christmas eve with his sweet family....we had a really nice time--the food was delicious and the company was even better. And the fireworks at midnight were beautiful!

Feliz Navidad!

despedidas del año

2008-12-14T15:26:00.003-06:00

The Dordt students left Saturday morning after completing their semester in Nicaragua. On their last night we took them out to dinner to celebrate. Above, me and the senior girls from the program...ah, and my "pregnant lady" shirt. (No, I'm not pregnant, it's just de moda here.)

My dear friends Freddy and Leonor and their two adorable children Sarai and recien nacido Josue Javier. I went to visit them last week when Josue was just 10 days old!! This photo was taken at our office right before the end-of-year lunch Friday, which they all came to.

The large and growing Nehemiah Center staff...taken in the NC courtyard.
Can I just say that it's so fun to have grass!!

shameless announcement

2008-12-12T17:05:00.002-06:00

I just wanted to let you all know--because I am SUPER excited--that my dear friend and long-time mission trip buddy Meara (from FPC-San Antonio) is coming to visit me the week after Christmas...and so if you are interested in sending anything down this way and you want her contact info, leave me a message here or send me an email and I will help you out.

:-)

robbed!

2008-12-10T22:38:00.002-06:00

Okay, so this actually happened almost three weeks ago, but I'm just now getting around to venting about it.

So a few Fridays ago, right when the post-election drama began to calm down (at least enough for us to be able to leave the house), Andrea and I decided to go meet some friends at the mall for dinner. Galerias Mall, to be exact, on the trendy southside of town, which just happens to be the ritziest mall in all of Managua. It was a nice night and we decided that we'd sit outside and enjoy the fresh air instead of freezing in the air conditioning.

I put my purse down by my feet--something I actually hardly ever do, because I'm hardly ever in a place where putting anything on the ground is a wise idea--and we proceeded to order beverages. Soon afterwards, a random guy came by our table asking if we knew "tal Senora" and for about 2 minutes, all 4 of us had our attention totally on this guy.

He left, we continued talking, and all of a sudden I looked down, and my purse was gone. Someone had reached in through the patio fence separating us from the public walkway and grabbed it. I couldn't believe it. How many times have I been in some random taxi in the middle of the night, or on the bus with my laptop smooshed against strangers, and THIS is where it happens???? In the middle of a nice restaurant in the wealthiest sector of town??? I just kept shaking my head in disbelief.

Of course after I got through the shock stage, I immediately canceled my bank card and that weekend got new keys copied and eventually a new phone to replace what had been stolen. I was at least grateful for the fact that neither my new driver's license, my passport, nor my camera were in my purse. I probably would have lost it.

Nevertheless, thanks to the many challenges of getting mail from the USA to here, I have now been living without a new bank card for 3 weeks, borrowing from roommates, sending money through PayPal to people, and basically trying to maximize every cent of my "efectivo" to avoid having to get more money somehow.

I have to say that this has been quite a stressful situation for me, as even though I live on a fairly tight budget, I normally still feel fairly independent when it comes to making purchases. But knowing I have to make money last a week instead of 2-3 days has made me think twice about taking a taxi when a bus will do, has made me eat oatmeal for dinner instead of going to the fritanga, and has made me decline social outings "por pena" of not wanting to borrow money (even knowing that eventually I could totally pay it back.)

Perhaps I've inadvertantly gotten a better glimpse of what life is like for my Nica friends who know the price per media libra of everything in the market, who count the change in their purse and rarely have more than C$200 ($10) on their person, and who would never take a taxi, even at night because they just can't afford it.

I guess I just need to get over it. I mean, after all, for me, this is just a temporary inconvenience. But for others--it's life as usual.

of chocolate and (lack of) compassion

2008-12-07T17:16:00.003-06:00

What should I have done, I asked myself in retrospect. I still don’t know.

You see, one night last week, my friend K. and I had gone on a little chocolate buying adventure in the middle of semi-upscale Managua. This is no ordinary Mars chocolate, mind you. This is gourmet made-in-Nicaragua chocolate mixed with delectable fruit flavors, nuts, and even liquor. So as the holidays are upon us, and neither of us splurge very often on anything, this seemed like a fine idea.

We took a cab across town in the middle of rush hour, which gave us plenty of time to catch up on her adventures the previous week in Guatemala (and I am going there in 10 days—whee!! But that is another story) helping with a cool arts camp for street kids.

When we got there, our senses were bombarded with the sights and smells of a wider variety of chocolate than I have ever seen. We each tried 5 or 6 small pieces before deciding on our purchases (K. went with the chocolate chai, and I got a variety pack—I am so indecisive!!). We then wandered down the street in search of beverages.

Content with my ginger ale in hand and K with her fruit smoothie, we went in search of a good spot to catch a cab. We reached the main “highway” (it’s a 4 lane road, which here qualifies as a highway), and proceeded to head downhill toward a gas station which seemed like a good waiting spot. Meantime, however, we had been spotted by some young Nica girls who were hanging out at an intersection with small water bottles used for washing windshields. They immediately ran toward us, and as they got closer, pleaded with us… "Dame un peso” (give me a coin). When we refused and kept walking, they followed us, reaching for our drinks and our small white bags that held our chocolate, saying over and over “regalame, regalame” (give it to me).

Now, there have been numerous occasions here in Nicaragua when I have willingly parted with a drink or food at the request of a child. I know it’s not going to solve the problem, but in the moment that usually doesn’t matter to me. What matters is compassion. But that night, I don’t know if I was low on compassion or just wanted to finish my drink myself because I was thirsty or what, but I refused, held onto my drink and chocolate and continued walking.

And that’s when the unexpected happened. As we walked away, the girls threw the water from their bottles right at us, getting K’s skirt and my pants wet.

At first I was shocked. No child (or even adult) that I have refused to give to has ever done anything like that to me. Then I was angry. Not about my clothes, which would be easily cleaned, but angry that kids who are 7-8 years old are out on the street in the first place at 7pm trying to earn money for their families. What kind of childhood is that? I see it all the time, but sometimes it gets to me anew, like I am seeing it for the first time, again.

And then I was sad, and a little guilty. Should I have just given the girl my ginger ale? She certainly wouldn’t have thrown her water at me if I had. But, maybe that’s not the point. Even giving her the drink and moving on would have been an incomplete response. A way of avoiding the pain of the situation—hers and mine. A way of avoiding relationship. Looking back, I realize I didn’t even make eye contact with these girls. I can’t remember anything about what they looked like. Sure, it was dark, but that’s no excuse. Maybe I should have stopped and talked to them. Shown a little interest in them as individuals.

I’ve often thought there’s nothing worse than being anonymous, someone whose name no one knows, someone whose presence no one acknowledges….I myself have lived my share of moments were I felt that sensation. And yet I perpetuated that cycle myself. It makes me wonder if I am really changing at all.

Sigh. What should I have done? What can I do now? Will I do anything differently next time?

mi arbol del refugio

2008-12-04T11:47:00.004-06:00

The quote I chose to accompany my senior year of college yearbook photo was from Samuel T. Coleridge.

"Friendship is a sheltering tree." In Spanish it is translated (mas o menos), "La amistad es un arbol del refugio."

It is the best and only phrase I can come up with to describe what is has been like these last few months to finally, after two years of feeling like I was in a desert of sorts, to have found a community of people (mis queridos muchachos de la sociedad de jovenes!!) within my church who I genuinely enjoy spending time with, who have embraced and included me in their lives, who make me not miss home quite so much...and actually make me desperately want to avoid thinking about leaving next May.

A small group of these muchachos came over to my house Tuesday night for a last minute sort of surprise visit (in Nicaragua, this sort of ultima hora get together is really the only kind there is), and "la pasamos muy bien"...laughing, sharing photos and chistes, drinking iced tea and eating (my homemade) banana bread, singing lots of Nica songs--and even some Silvio Rodriguez (with Abner's awesome guitar playing), and lots of fregando...

I never wanted them to leave.

Muchachos, le doy gracias a Dios porque su amistad se ha convertido en algo muy especial en mi vida, y solamente les puedo decir que les quiero mucho y espero que juntos pasemos muchos mas momentos bellos en los proximos meses.

a thanksgiving for the soul

2008-12-02T20:27:00.001-06:00

It’s a little strange to think I haven’t been in the USA for a major holiday since 2006. Yet every one that I have spent here in Nicaragua has been memorable in its own way…and this past Thanksgiving was no different.

It all started with the simple idea that maybe the North American college students I work with here would enjoy having a little taste of home even as they finish out their semester program with us. I’ve never “hosted” Thanksgiving dinner before (the most I’ve ever contributed is a green bean casserole or sweet potato dish or assistance to the turkey preparation), but I felt like it would be fun, and I was up for a cooking challenge.

Thanks to the wonders of globalization, I was able to buy all the traditional fixin’s, minus the sweet potatoes and turnip. All of the girls came into Managua Thursday afternoon, and with a little teamwork (and an extra dose of baking genius from co-chef Leah) we baked two pumpkin pies, an apple pie, stuffing, and prepared the potatoes that night.

I hit the pillow pretty exhausted that evening, but was up before the crack of dawn Friday, thanks to some early morning fireworks in my neighborhood plus a blaring stereo playing music in homenage to Mary (the annual celebration of the Purisima is this week). While the girls slept, I concocted a rub for the turkey…a little salt, pepper, sage, thyme, lemongrass and butter smothered liberally over the outside of the defrosted bird, followed by a little apple juice, which I also put (diluted) in the bottom of the pan.

The bird safely in my tiny gas oven (the door barely shut), I threw on my running clothes and headed out to take advantage of the cool morning air. There was no sign of the noisy neighbors or any street procession like I expected. Instead, just like always, I passed women sweeping their patios, children waiting at bus stops with older siblings, and a few other walkers.

Refreshed and much more awake, I returned to the house where most everyone was still asleep except for Leah, who had gotten up early to make caramel dip (which turned out awesome, btw). After some coffee and cornflakes, I busied myself with the mashed potatoes, broccoli and corn, while Leah took care of the gravy.

It was a really fun morning, and as I stood alone in the kitchen making the final preparations, I heard the laughter wafting in from the living room, and my heart smiled as I remembered the joy of having a full house on this special day. (The last time I can remember a *really* full house on Thanksgiving was before my family moved to Texas, when we spent the holiday with my mom’s family in Boston.)

In addition to the Dordt college students, we also wound up having two other special guests—another student (another Pamela, believe it or not) from Wheaton who had been doing an internship at the Nehemiah Center this semester—and Sidney, a Nicaraguan friend from church who teaches English at a local Christian academy.

Having never prepared an entire Thanksgiving meal mostly myself (and mostly without established recipes—just my own creativity and intuition), I was unsure how everything was going to turn out (especially those crazy pie crusts…). But after we said grace and all sat down to eat on my porch, I looked around and saw a circle of contented faces around me enjoying this special meal…and I felt pure joy….the joy that only comes from giving.

And as I think back on that moment, my soul declares with the psalmist, “Truly, my cup runneth over.”

Happy (belated) Thanksgiving, everyone.

felicidades, licenciadas

2008-11-29T11:54:00.004-06:00

This past weekend, I had the privilege of attending my good friend Wendy's graduation from the UNAN (the National Autonomous University of Nicaragua). I met Wendy (BA in Philology and Communication) last fall at a CECNIC (Christian Nicaraguan College Students) event, and we have shared some fun times together over the last year as well as great conversations about theology, politics, and life. Pictured with us (middle) is fellow graduate and mutual acquaintance Oneyda.

I've attended various kinds of special occasions here in Nicaragua--weddings, wakes, baby showers, etc--and each one is unique, though often not so very different than in the United States. In this case, the one major difference is that it is customary for the graduates to process into the auditorium with a relative or friend of their choice, who then also accompany them up onto the stage when they receive their diplomas. I think that's a really neat way to honor and acknowledge publicly the support and sacrifice of others who contributed to this landmark in one's life.

Another interesting thing is that officially getting one's Bachelor's degree here is a really big deal. Unlike in the States, where one normally would only note one's degree after one's name after getting a Masters or PhD, here in Nicaragua, college graduates are immediately called "licenciado/a" (literally, titled) and include that distinction in correspondence, etc. as a form of respect.

Felicidades, licenciadas!!

2008-11-24T22:12:00.003-06:00

There is a moment from my senior year of high school that encapsulates my secondary school experience and haunts me into my adult years…

I am sitting cross legged on the heater in the small hallway outside the drama department classroom which doubled as the set for the one-act play I had been cast in. Around me are 20 something fellow students, most of whom I have known for four years or more. The chatter and laughter bubbles up around me, and I watch in silence.

Later, at home, I write these words, a poem and a song:

I’m not a part of your world
I’m not a part of your world
There’s a circle all around me
But all I am is background…

And it goes on. It’s quite the depressing tune. But it represents a feeling I have often had, in many groups throughout the years, that even in a crowd, I am still alone. Even among friends, I am alone. Even within the community of faith, I am alone. For as much as I have sought to be fully known and loved, for as often as I have gone madly confessional in this space and in more intimate conversations with friends in the hopes of being understood, there remains a part of me that will never, can never be known this side of heaven. And I suppose that is part of what has fed the perpetual doubts in my mind and heart about the love and acceptance others have for me, despite every evidence to the contrary.

In some ways, I suppose a healthy skepticism of other’s proclaimed affection can be a useful defense against pain and hurt. It can also lead to looking for manifestations of love in the wrong places, places that appear “safer” but actually are much more destructive. Or it might mean rejecting even healthy forms of intimacy in relationships for fear of an impending rejection, or because of the inevitable realization that no person can fill my need for love completely.

I’ve been in all of these places, both before I came to Nicaragua and since. But now I am trying to move into a new place, a space beyond fear and dependence, a space where transparency and vulnerability are sacred gifts to be given with much forethought and care, a space where I can better accept and appreciate the imperfect yet sincere love of those around me in its manifold expressions.

I like to think of this space as a garden…a garden I have only just begun to cultivate. But one that I hope will bear much fruit in season.

huir y ser hallada

2008-11-21T16:05:00.004-06:00

Echando un vistazo atrás
corriendo como el viento
tratando de escapar memorias
que se han convertido en pesadillas

Escuchando el grito ahogado
huyendo del pasado
borrando el pecado
que no quiere ser olvidado

Llenando mis ojos
tosiendo por el polvo
buscando un refugio
donde hay un pedazo de aliento

Lagrimas y duda
Día y noche mi comida
mi corazón en esclavitud
alejado de la luz y virtud

Saliendo de la sombra
una voz me llamaba
En un susurro, con ternura
Decía, dejes de huir, hija Mía
Mi amor y mi perdón son para ti
¿No me creía?

O Señor, tantas veces que te he huido….y siempre me hallas. Y cuando vuelvo en sí, como el hijo prodigo, digo como tus discípulos de todas las épocas….

A quien iré, O Cristo…tú, y solo tú tienes palabras de Vida.

Te pido la paz para mi ciudad

2008-11-18T19:25:00.002-06:00

On Sunday, November 9th, Nicaraguans across the country went to the polls to elect new mayors in all 16 departments and hundreds of municipalities.

Unfortunately, what should have been a "gran fiesta civica" has turned into an increasingly unstable situation, particularly in Managua and Leon, as the results of the capital's election have been under dispute since the Supreme Electoral Council began announcing its vote counts in the late evening hours that night.

The PLC (Liberal) Party is claiming a fraudulent process led to the victory of the Sandinista candidate Alexis Arguello over opposition candidate Eduardo Montealegre. Liberal party leaders have called protests in both Managua and Leon to demand a recount. Sandinistas have taken to the streets to prevent these protests from occurring, and troubling incidents of violence have been reported almost daily for the last week.

Yesterday and today half the city was rendered paralyzed when major intersections and rotundas were blocked after a major march was announced.

Thus far there appears to be no political solution being negotiated to bring an end to the instability caused by these disputed results.

I ask all of you to please lift up this country in your prayers--for peace, wisdom, restraint, good judgment, justice, and mercy to be exercised by all parties involved--the politicians, electoral process officials, police, and citizens. And that a solution be reached without delay.

O Dios, Te pido la paz para esta ciudad, para esta nacion, que tanta la necesita en estos momentos. Ten misericordia y rescatenos de toda maldad. Que haya justicia en esta tierra, que haya temor de Ti en los corazones de sus lideres.

Amen.

some CR trip photos

2008-11-18T11:06:00.004-06:00

to costa rica and back again

2008-11-16T19:08:00.003-06:00

Tonight I am a mixture of emotions as I sit at my kitchen table and reflect on the last 4 days. Thursday morning in the early morning hours I left Managua for San Jose (Costa Rica) with the Dordt students. Our trip’s purposes were twofold—to give them a feel for the culture and history of another Central American country, and to study the immigration issue up close and personal.

More than 500,000 Nicaraguans live in Costa Rica, where they work seasonal jobs like cutting coffee, construction, or as domestic employees. Many of them live in a poor barrio called el Carpio just north of the capital, where we went yesterday afternoon to visit with representatives of an organization that works there and hear from the Nicas themselves about their experience living in Costa Rica.

All of the people we spoke with have been living in Costa Rica for at least 5 years (one woman has been there 15 years), and have been back to Nicaragua very few times if at all during that time. They all said they came to Costa Rica because of the promise of economic opportunity, but most still appear to be struggling to get by. One said she did not want to go back. Others said it was their most cherished dream to go back to the country where they were born, the land they love. Their eyes lit up when our group shared all the things we appreciated about their culture, their food, their communities.

Later that night in our debriefing, someone commented on how it struck them that we (North Americans) have such facility of movement—that we just come and go as we please between these two countries—and yet these families have been living divided by a gran frontera, some for decades.

Crossing back into Nicaragua this afternoon, I marveled at how these two countries, which are so similar in indigenous roots, in language, in diet, in musical instruments, which are separated geographically by nothing more than a narrow river, are also separated by a grand canyon in terms of infrastructural and economic development. Walking the streets of downtown San Jose, one almost forgets that this is still Central America, so smothering is the presence of global corporations and businesses—in 10 blocks on the Avenida Central, only one restaurant offered comida tipica del pais. The rest were American chains.

And the people of these two countries—who ought to be in strong solidarity with one another as neighbors—are instead caught up in the tangled web that is woven when wealthy and poor countries share a border. The questions are familiar but still demand considerable reflection: What rights should immigrants have in another country? What responsibilities does the host government bear? If citizens of a country refuse to take certain jobs, is it okay for immigrants to take them? What is the appropriate Christian response to these issues? To raise these questions was a large part of the trip’s academic purpose.

But for me, the trip provoked a personal response as well. This morning, as we rose higher and higher out of the San Jose valley into the rolling green hills and gentle mountain ranges that dominate the northern CR landscape, I found myself longing for the more familiar sites that awaited me on the other side of Penas Blancas. And so when we crossed over and began the second leg of our journey through the narrow grassy plains that separate Lake Nicaragua from the Pacific Ocean, when I saw the familiar twin volcanoes of Ometepe island, when I glimpsed the silhouette of the well-traversed Volcan Mombacho on the horizon, when I noticed the women of Rivas and Granada and Masaya with their cast iron pots and make-shift grills on the streets selling pollo asado and tajada and frescos, my heart skipped a beat even as it smiled with relief.

And then it hit me like a bittersweet, unresolved jazz note….this is my home…a home that I will be leaving in 5 months. And I want to cry.

ometepe!!

2008-11-10T19:15:00.010-06:00

In what could be my last trip to the island paradise of Ometepe where I just spent the last 4 days getting a little much needed R&R...

-I walked more than 15 kilometers in 2 days

-I climbed at least halfway up a volcano to see a gorgeous waterfall (and then got drenched in it)

-I spent many hours laughing with my roomie Andrea and her friend Shannon visiting from PA

-I ate the best brocheta de pollo (shish-ka-bob) of my life (made with curry, pineapple, banana, green pepper, tomato and onion)

-I saw some cool pre-columbian petroglyphs...

-I sweated buckets

-I enjoyed the beauty of dozens of colorful flowers (Dawn, this one remind me of you!)

-I swam in a "fountain of youth", the pristine mineral waters of the "ojo del agua"

-I biked on muddy, rocky roads, took a nasty fall, and escaped with one knee scraped up and several bad bruises

-I became obsessed with a bluejay like bird called the uracca, which turns out to behave remarkably like a pigeon

-I witnessed several breathtaking sunrises and sunsets

-I finished Henri Nouwen's book "Camino a Casa" por fin!

See a lot more photos here: http://tiny.cc/6JAxf

for mom and dad

2008-10-31T14:02:00.002-06:00

When I was growing up, my parents had a rule: No television until homework was done. Sometimes they relented and gave me 30 minutes of PBS (Reading Rainbow, anyone?), but most of the time when I came home from school, I had a quick snack, perhaps a little playtime, and then it was up to my room to work.

My parents very rarely checked my homework, but I remember there came a point in high school when I started asking for help—especially with math and science, my weak subjects. Both my parents went to college and are extremely well-read, well-educated people—so even when I was frustrated at not understanding something, I always knew I could turn to them for help (even if my stubbornly independent self didn’t actually want to).

These memories came back to me in a flood yesterday because of a conversation with Aurora, who comes to our house once a week to do laundry and such. She is a sweet spirit yet also tough as nails, and though her family’s daily life is very challenging, her emotions are normally kept well out of sight.

Until yesterday. As Aurora was preparing to leave, she asked to talk to me for a few minutes. ..and she proceeded to tell me about a lot of the struggles her family is facing right now with the rising prices of everything… “Mis hijos siempre me piden cosas, y tengo que decirles que no podemos…”

It was when she told me about her teenage daughter, though, that her eyes started to water up. “She was so upset last night because she didn’t understand her homework, and she asked me and her dad for help, and we couldn’t help her….we never studied these things.”

We talked a bit more about how it’s important to be able to give children not just the physical things they need, but even more so, love, emotional support, a sense of security and protection in the midst of a dangerous world. “I am sure you give those things to your children,” I tried to reassure her.

But later after she left, I felt a whirlwind of emotions. Sadness. Guilt. Helplessness.

What would it be like to see your daughter struggling in school and not be able to help?

As I reflected on our conversation, I suddenly realized yet again another dimension of how much I vastly underestimate the inherently privileged position I come from….how the simple fact that I had parents who could support my education (maybe not financially, but with their knowledge, experience, and example of appreciation for learning) is nothing to take for granted.

Through the years many of my closest friends know that I often have been hard on my parents for not being or doing certain things…but after yesterday, I am resolved to spend much less time complaining about the past and more time being grateful for the many intangible gifts my parents have given me….like Aurora, they did the best they could with what they had.

And there is grace to cover the rest.

I love you, Mom and Dad.

of pollos and theology

2008-10-29T15:32:00.002-06:00

"We were just talking and all of a sudden we heard the sound of chickens," Leah explained. "So we looked around and sure enough, there they were on the floor in the front of our microbus."

That of course was too good a photo opp to pass up. I've seen a lot of animals in unexpected places in Nicaragua, but this one was right up there. The most interesting thing is how calm the 4-5 of them were, just quietly enjoying the ride across town as we took the students to the Baptist Seminary for a class on liberation theology. It sounds kinda strange, I admit--what in the world do the Baptists have to do with leftist ideas like that?

But, actually, the Baptist Seminary here is and was the hub of higher theological education in Nicaragua. Today, it's still the only one that isn't only for denominational church preparation. And during the 60s and 70s its entire teaching methodology took on the form developed by Latin American lib theologians, for which they got a lot of flack from some of the more conservative wings of their own denomination as well as other Christians.

A lot has changed since the 1970s, of course. Liberation theology has basically slipped into the history books, other than a few small communities and practitioners. But what our guest speaker, a pastor and faculty member at the seminary shared with us, is that the heart of liberation theology for him was always about a certain way of looking at the world around us, listening to the reality that surrounds us, and reading the Bible with a profound interest in what light it would shed on how to respond to those realities, especially to the suffering of others.

"I could preach a sermon this week about how the dead in Christ will rise first," Pastor G reflected, "and make the people feel better about being hungry and dying sooner to be with Christ sooner...but that's not what it's about. It's about what we do about hunger. It's about justice."

He went on to describe how he saw threads of commonality running through Jesus' message to the religous of his time, the message of the Reformers in the 1500s, and the cries of liberation theology advocates in the 1960s-70s. "In one way or another, they were also speaking truth to power," Pastor G shared. Reminding people of God's truth, our true access to Him, His compassion, His outrage over the plight of the poor.

He admitted that he felt many liberation theologians lost their way by separating Christian ethics from political/social action, but defended others like Archbishop Romero in El Salvador who was killed for "simply daring to call upon the governing authorities to stop the violence against the people."

We still need voices like that today. We still need to look at the Scriptures and look at our reality and speak truth to power. Even it means losing our lives. I wonder if we truly believe that nowadays. I wonder if we truly believe what Jesus himself said.

“Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.”

flowers

2008-10-27T12:32:00.003-06:00

I love flowers. I have probably taken a hundred photos just of Nicaraguan flowers in the last two years.

There is always beauty to be found if you look for it. I find I appreciate it so much more here because without it, it is so easy to be overwhelmed with despair.

dame Tus ojos...

2008-10-26T18:38:00.004-06:00

“Que se atienda al que llora y al que sufre,
Y se busque al hermano en desamparo.
Que busquemos tu rostro cada día.
Y seamos instrumentos en tus manos.
Que tu palabra en mis labios siempre abunde,
y abra caminos de paz en mis hermanos,
Para aprender la humildad y mansedumbre
De Jesús el pastor de los humanos.”
-Citado del Canto de Los Líderes

La primera vez que escuché este canto fue en noviembre del año pasado en un evento de estudiantes universitarios aquí en Managua. Inmediatamente el canto me tocó de manera profunda porque siempre he sentido un llamado a los que sufren, a los olvidados del mundo…siempre he querido ser este tipo de instrumento en las manos de Dios, que muestra la paz, el amor, y la compasión de Jesús a los demás. Siempre he creído que una de las maneras más poderosas de mostrar el evangelio—las buenas nuevas—es a través del servicio hecho en humildad, o aun en secreto.

Lo canté otra vez el julio pasado en México, acompañada por 100+ estudiantes y líderes del movimiento cristiano universitario a nivel regional, y otra vez la canción me impactó, pero por otra razón. Esta otra razón es que había estado en una lucha personal que realmente no me dejaba, que me distraía, que me llevaba muy lejos de pensar en hacer mucho por otras personas, porque vivía una realidad diaria que me consumía tanto que ni tenía espacio en la mente por otras cosas o personas.

Cantándola me hizo pensar mucho. Quería volver a ser esta persona más preocupada por otras que a mí misma. Quería dejar de ser tan egoísta. Pero a la vez me di cuenta que esto no iba a ser posible sin una sanación profunda de las heridas mías sufridas en los últimos meses, sin una reconciliación nueva con mi Dios, sin una conexión más real con El de lo que había tenido hace un buen rato.

Doy gracias a mi Señor que hace un mes, El puso alguien (de hecho, algunas personas) en mi camino que me han ayudado salir de la oscuridad y vergüenza donde vivía. Sin embargo, todavía sigo siendo una persona herida, una cisterna con rajaduras. Pero algo pequeño sucedió hoy que sirvió para recordarme que aun así, Dios quiere usarme.

Por la tarde, iba saliendo de la iglesia, buscando un taxi, cuando vi una anciana hablando con un taxista. Pronto el taxi salió y la dona quedó. Caminé rápido para tratar de alcanzarlo, pero se me fue. La doña, con ropa humilde y un mimbre para ayudarla estar de pie, me preguntó dónde iba. Le dije, y ella dijo que iba en el mismo camino; me pidió que le ayudara a encontrar un taxi. Se acercó otro taxi, y pedí el precio para nosotras dos. Pregunté a la doña si pudo pagar, y ella me dijo que no, que si le podría ayudar.

Sentí un nudo en mi garganta y le dije que sí. Ella me dijo, “Dios le bendiga”. Montamos en el taxi y fuimos a su casa, que estaba en medio de un sector muy pobre de la ciudad. Pero su cara feliz, la sonrisa con la cual salió la doña del taxi cuando llegamos era más que suficiente recompensa.

Quizás no fuera un gesto tan generoso, ni tan profundo en medio de todo el sufrimiento del mundo, pero por 20 minutos, mi mente dejó de pensar en mi pequeñas dificultades y se enfocó en lo que debe ser la vida de esta señora que ni podía regresar a su casa después de ir al hospital.

Ahora me pregunto, ¿cuánto más amor podría mostrar, cuantas más palabras de vida podría compartir, cuanto más podría ser un instrumento de Su paz, si dejara mis propias luchas más a menudo, si tuviera mis ojos más abiertos?

48 hours later

2008-10-25T15:34:00.010-06:00

[In which I translate live on Baptist radio, ride in the back of an open pick up truck, traipse through creeks, help share Bible stories, learn a new Spanish song, get chocolate frosting on me, and finally decide to buy new shoes.]

And that's just the highlights. Wednesday morning I took off for Somotillo/El Ojoche with the New Song team from southern California who were going to be spending the week up there building relationships, sharing God's love and preventative health lessons, assisting in the construction of two water retention tanks (one of which is almost all done thanks to a high level of commitment from the community itself), and learning about the families' daily lives through visits to see their patio gardens and getting pottery making lessons (I keep missing that last part--next time!).

Somotillo is about 4 hours northwest of Managua, on a fairly decent highway that turns pothole-y about 3/4 of the way there. It is the last real "town" before the border with Honduras, and it's where the team's (our) hospedaje (digs) are. After settling in a bit, we took off for El Ojoche, with the esperanza that even though it had been raining for a week straight, we would be able to somehow get through on the dirt-turned-to-mud road. Unfortunately, it was not to be. About 1/2 way there we ran into an enormous muddy mess that had even derailed some buses--and we realized we were not getting through--and we were still too far to walk (even for the teens in the group). So we turned around and headed for the Baptist church, which also has a radio station--and we attempted to send a message via radio up to the community (hoping someone was listening--of course, we found out later that the power had gone off up there, so no one heard it--but it was my first time to translate live on Nicaraguan radio!)

Thursday we tried again--and although we had a Plan B (take another FH co-worker's vehicle across and shuttle people up), it actually wound up being "Plan G" (for God) because even the 4-wheel drive Land Cruiser wasn't getting through. Instead, there were two pick up trucks there which we contracted to take us and all our supplies the 6 or so kilometers up to El Ojoche. It was certainly bumpier--but a lot more scenic--and the carsickness-prone folks in the group held up a lot better.

After a round of introductions and a big community meeting, the team and a group of Ojoche residents set off on a community clean-up, which involved these neat home-made brooms, walking around (or in some cases, through) a creek that divides the community), and up a giant hill to the endpoint (the school).
My 3-year old sneakers were in pretty bad shape already (the soles are separating from the shoe), so I was extra careful to not step in water--just mud and stones--with the help of several ladies who laughed with me as I jutted from one "safe spot" to another.

At the top of the hill, we all paused to rest, and I saw this cow standing all by itself on the hill and decided to get a closer look. Meanwhile, the ladies in the community all shouted at me to be careful because she was "brava". But I survived the encounter unscathed. :-)

While we were up at the school, I also spent some time talking to my new friend Licha, one of the founding members of the Community Health Evangelism committee in the community.It’s amazing to me that even though I have only been up here like 5 times in the last 2 years, so many people remembered who I was and greeted me with great warmth and enthusiasm. One of the other ladies, Concha, who I have written about before, saw me, and said, “I thought you were not going to come greet me.” I told her I hadn’t seen her at first, but that I was so glad she was there. (The last time I was in the community, she had invited me to her house to watch her make pottery.)
After a delicious lunch, some weather issues changed the original plan for the afternoon and the team wound up hanging out with the kids (balloons are good for hours of fun, they discovered)…and I spent my time translating the conversations between them, and answering various questions about Nicaragua and the community.

Friday started similarly, with a bumpy pick up ride, followed by a morning chock-full of excitement. First the team split up into 3 rotations to teach brief lessons on hand-washing, dental hygiene, and do a craft. I was with the hand-washing group, which used chocolate frosting to illustrate the way germs can be passed if we aren’t careful. The kids thought this was extremely funny and giggled the whole time as we all proceeded to pretend to get sick from the chocolate.

The second set of rotations was sharing bible stories, and I was with the “Fall” group, and helped Sue, one of the team members, translate. The team had brought down these felt blankets and cardboard cut outs to visually represent the story, which the kids also really liked. And I got to put on my drama hat, which was really fun. I also learned a cool new Spanish song called ‘Rey de la Jungla’ which I may share with you one day.

In the afternoon, the teens and some of the adults went to play soccer while I stayed back with some of the others who weren’t up for that and we hung out with some of the younger girls who were fascinated by braiding hair and singing “Eres todopoderoso”.

Each night I also participated in the team’s devotionals, which was really special. They are an awesome group of people, and I am glad I got to be part of their experience in Nicaragua, even just for a couple of days.

This morning I left them in Somotillo (they’ll be there ‘til Tuesday)—I left at 7:30am from the border, and got back into Managua around 11, where the first order of business was to upload pictures — and the second, to buy new sneakers. And third, to share all of this with you.

baking night in las brisas

2008-10-22T07:44:00.005-06:00

"OMG, that's mold growing on those bananas," exclaimed Leah when she walked into my kitchen last night and saw the frozen bananas on the counter. I chuckled.

"No, no," I reassured her. "It's just frost." And to prove it, I quickly ran my hands over the skin, immediately uncovering the very black skin that lay beneath. Bananas go bad quickly anywhere, but they have an even shorter "shelf life" here with the constant heat and humidity (and no air conditioning), so I frequently wind up throwing one or two in the freezer--and tonight was the night we were finally going to do something with them!

I had invited the Dordt College senior girls (who are in Managua this week for their teaching practicum) to come over for dinner and baking (Leah is the baker-- I think Sonya and Sarah just came for a change of scenery and internet access :-))

After some delicious pasta, Leah and I tag-teamed the preparation of a banana bread mix (her recipe) while sharing funny cooking stories. I joked to the girls after we took the "before" picture posted above that the mixture looked a little like upchuck. But an hour later, the end result was delicious.

Between the 4 of us, we downed almost the entire first loaf (lucky me, I got to the keep the second one). [In the middle of all of this merriment I also killed a very large cockroach in our living room.]

Afterwards, Sonya and Leah decided to read aloud from a cute Nica children's book I just bought called "Un guegue me conto" which is like a folkstyle retelling of the origins of Nicaragua and its people. One day maybe I'll share some of it with you.

All in all, it was a really fun evening and I am looking forward to the next one (cookies!!)

my latest cultural outing

2008-10-20T20:38:00.007-06:00

Nicaraguan and Cuban history are very much intertwined (especially since the 1960s)--and their intermingling of revolutionary fervor and cultural appreciation was very much on display this past week in Nicaragua's National Theater.

Last Wednesday night a variety of Nicaraguan dancers and musicians payed tribute to Cuban Culture Day by offering us (me and my friend Renee, and 500+ of our fellow aficionados of good Latin music) a full repertoire of some of the most popular songs to come out of Cuba in the last couple centuries. From afro-caribbean dance to classical big band 40s style to tropical flavor to the acoustic wonders of Silvio Rodriguez, it was a spectacular show. At the end, the dancers even came out among the audience and danced in the aisles. (Wish I had pictures of that, but it all happened so fast...)

I have to say, I have become a huge fan of all kinds of Latin music since I have moved here--Mana, Juanes, Alex Campos, Juan Luis Guerra, Julieta Venegas, Los Toros Band, and many, many more. But my latest musical addiction is without a doubt Silvio Rodriguez. I can't even put it into words, but this man's lyrics (and chord progressions)--even when I don't understand all of them--move me deeply. Just have a listen...

Me siento muchas veces que soy como este corazon que Silvio describe, un corazon con muros (aunque quizas no tan fuertes porque todavia entra mucho dolor), que se esconde, en fuga, herido de dudas de amor...

broken things

2008-10-20T19:43:00.003-06:00

"You can have my heart, but it isn't new.
it's been used and broken and only comes in blue.
it's been down a long road and it got dirty on the way,
If I give it to you, will you make it clean
and wash the pain away?

You can have my heart if you don't mind broken things
you can have my heart if you don't mind these tears
'Cause I heard that you make all things new
so I give these pieces all to you
If you want it you can have my heart."

From Lucy Kaplansky's heartbreaking beautiful song Broken Things..a good theme song for me lately

all this beauty

2008-10-20T06:42:00.002-06:00

For Dawn, who posted a photo on her blog that reminded me of this one that I took on my very first trip to Selva Negra in the central mountains of Nicaragua back in August '06.

Why do I have a feeling this is only one of many nostalgic posts to come over the next several months?...

para un amigo lejano

2008-10-16T21:12:00.004-06:00

O amigo mio, ¿donde fuistes?

En un momento de vulnerabilidad
te di una parte de mí
de mi pasado, de mi vergüenza, de mi alma
nuestras conversaciones eran como regalos inesperados
pero las tomé como un señal que Dios no me había dejado
Y que todavía me buscaba

Dentro de poco
me dio perdón y esperanza
un nuevo corazón y una nueva canción
una candela encendida con que enfrentar la oscuridad
la libertad de mirar hacia el futuro

Pero ahora me ha llegado una nueva lucha,
que en verdad es la manifestación de una vieja
el no sentir abandonada o deprimida
en mis momentos más solitarios
después de compartir mis emociones intimas con alguien

O alma mía, ¿por que soy tan débil?

Te permití llegar a ser muy querido
pero ya sé que no puedo depender de ti
aunque quisiera

Como pajarita, tengo que salir del nido
y confiar en Aquel que devolvió el sentido,
que me dará la fuerza para volar

O amigo mio, ¿donde fuistes?

wisdom from 1841

2008-10-16T11:48:00.002-06:00

"Money ... has often been a cause of the delusion of multitudes. Sober nations have all at once become desperate gamblers, and risked almost their existence upon the turn of a piece of paper. To trace the history of the most prominent of these delusions is the object of the present pages. Men, it has been well said, think in herds; it will be seen that they go mad in herds, while they only recover their senses slowly, and one by one.” -Charles Mackay, Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds

"We need to get back to thinking about how, not just how much."

h/t

Blog Action Day: Shalom and Poverty

2008-10-15T09:56:00.003-06:00

"It is always the poor who pay the price for the unbridled greed and irresponsibility of the powerful." -Father Miguel d'Escoto Brockman of Nicaragua, the newly elected president of the UN General Assembly

In solidarity with the thousands of bloggers participating in Blog Action Day 2008 to discuss poverty, I want to share with you, dear readers, some reflections on a conversation I had (a propos) this morning with a group of my fellow (north american) cross-cultural workers representing diverse ministries and NGOs in Nicaragua. We were gathered to reflect on how we--as people who live in the daily tension between a "home" culture and a "host" culture--can be prophetic voices to our culture of origin as we are challenged to see new things about the beliefs and values we have brought with us through the eyes of Nicaraguans, living daily among them.

One of the (perhaps self-evident) observations we made about our own culture is the exalting of individual liberty and rights and even entitlement over a more relational or communal understanding of "success". What is required of me is to work hard, to pursue MY goals, to provide for my family, and whatever is "extra" perhaps consider how to help others or give back. (Let us put aside for the moment the critique of how we determine what really is extra versus necessary to live a healthy life).

What does this kind of thinking lead to in practice? Many things--and while it is dangerous to make generalizations, it occurred to me that one thing decidedly lacking from our current US culture is the idea of and commitment to shared sacrifice. (For evidence of this, one need look no further than a 2006 comment by the President himself--"Go shopping"--when asked how Americans could help with the economy and the war on terror). I'm not qualified to get into a deep economic analysis of liquidity of markets, but it's clear something is dramatically wrong with this picture. Somehow I am helping my neighbor and our soldiers and the world by spending more on myself? No, I don't think so.

We're in the mess we're in now financially worldwide because money and wealth is all people seem to be interested in. Accumulation of goods--things--experiences--anything that makes us feel better about ourselves and forget our mortality, our limitations, our sin.

Meanwhile, what's suddenly been rediscovered this week after it became clear that the Wall Street crisis was going global is that we really are all connected (though we like to forget it). The disaster that's being wrought has consequences not only for the people who lost money in the stock market, but for the economies of countries much poorer than ours. And when I say "economies" what that actually represents are people. People who are far away from me physically perhaps, but that I can no more deny as my sisters and brothers than my own flesh and blood.

This point was brought out by another young woman in the group this morning who talked about our interconnectedness. "I am not going to have perfect shalom--peace, and justice, and wholeness--in my life until every one else on earth does too," she said. Maybe that sounds like idealism and pie-in-the-sky thinking, but I don't think so. That's the shalom that Christ came to earth to bring--to every person, to every community. A shalom that includes and begins with my own good relationship with God, but also must lead to the restoration of relationships with neighbor and creation and myself. Relaciones justas, as we say in Spanish.

And while we live in the tension between the "already but not yet" and justice seems far off, let us resolve not to forget that we ARE connected, and the situation of people in India, the Sudan, Bolivia, and Nicaragua matters. Not just in the abstract "God loves everyone and hates poverty" way but in the "God has called me to be an instrument of His love and grace, and to act, to do His will on earth to bring the fullness of His kingdom, the fullness of Kingdom Culture, the fullness of shalom, one day closer to reality." THAT, to me, is what it means when Jesus told us to pray, "Let your Kingdom come, and your will be done, on earth as it is heaven." While we are on the earth, we are not just waiting for Christ. We, the body of Christ, are the ones we have been waiting for, to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God in pursuit of a world free of hunger, disease, violence, and poverty....

reality check

2008-10-14T13:32:00.002-06:00

This Thursday is Dia Mundial de Alimentacion (UN World Food Day).

Today I read in El Nuevo Diario that 1.5 MILLION Nicaraguans (out of a total of 5 Million) no tiene aceso seguro a su alimentacion diaria (do not have secure daily access to food).

We need more than "consciencia" (a popular word here meaning awareness) around this issue. We need action.

Why is there so much fertile land going underutilized? Why is there land that food could be grown on being used to grow "bio fuels"?

Why is it that the quantity of food in the world could feed its total population several times over but its distribution is so unjust?

luz y tinieblas

2008-10-13T21:49:00.003-06:00

He vivido en aquellas tinieblas
Las conozco muy bien,
desde lo más profundo de mi ser

La distancia
La oscuridad
El miedo
La duda
La soledad

Amiga ninguna, pero la única compañía del alma
en las afueras de la Ciudad de gozo

He escuchado de aquella Luz
La conocía hace un tiempo
Esa Luz que brilla en medio del valle
Esa Luz que guía a los perdidos
Esa Luz que da vista a los ciegos
Esa Luz que revela Verdad y Amor

En medio de las tinieblas que me persiguen
En medio de mi fragilidad y debilidad
En medio de las noches oscuras de mi alma
Que esta Luz dé vida y aun resplandezca

“En él estaba la vida, y la vida era la luz de la humanidad. Esta luz resplandece en las tinieblas, y las tinieblas no han podido extinguirla.” –Evangelio de Juan 1: 4-5

tourism and poverty

2008-10-13T20:30:00.002-06:00

“Cuando el turismo crece, la pobreza retrocede.”

[When tourism grows, poverty recedes.]

That was the slogan I saw on a banner on my way home from the office today. It sounds good, right? But I wondered to myself as the bus rumbled down the hill toward Las Brisas (my neighborhood), is it true?

Certainly tourism creates certain kinds of jobs—and gives a great boost to restaurants, hotels, eco-adventure, tour guides, certain kinds of artisans and transportation (microbuses) industry folks. And the value added in terms of tax revenue certainly would seem to indicate that the government would be able to do more for its people as a result.

Yet in my (albeit limited) experience here, I find the benefits of tourism truly mixed. When not done carefully, the essential character of a place can be completely changed by tourism. I wrote tangentially about that after my very first visit to Granada, the hub of Nica tourism. North Americans and Europeans everywhere in the central hip area, with the bulk of the real population almost out of sight. Sure, the economy might be benefiting some limited sub-set of folks within the local economy (trickle down anyone?), but what about the effects on indigenous culture? What I see are some very real trade-offs in this area as businesses spring up catering to visitors and not necessarily reflecting the character of the country itself. Of course that’s part of successful hotels—give the customer what they want, right?

Then of course there are the environmental issues. For example, Nicaragua has a beautiful fresh water crater lake called Laguna de Apoyo, which is a huge attraction here. On one side, a whole bunch of little lodges and some fancy resort-like places have been built to take advantage of the location. Some are very environmentally conscious, and others steal water from the lake (even though all the business have supposedly agreed not to) to “subsidize” their water bill. At least no motor boats are allowed.

But I am growing more and more convinced that the kind of tourism that really benefits a country like Nicaragua in the long run is the kind that is home-grown, run by the locals (not big outside investment—though I recognize that it’s not always bad to have businesses investing in much-needed infrastructure that makes beautiful places in the country easier to get to), enables the development of marketable skills and talents, and is truly environmentally sustainable.

One such place that I have been to twice is a small eco-lodge in the mountains of Esteli (Tissey). It is a family-run establishment, the little cabins are humble but comfortable, the food is grown locally, and a short distance away are gorgeous hiking trails and artisans to visit. Best of all, the place fits its environment. It would be a travesty to see a big hotel built into the gorgeous hills surrounding this place. Even worse, for outside companies to buy up all the land that Nicas have enjoyed for free (like prime beach real estate, which is currently happening) is to me a completely unjust situation.

Sure, a complex economy needs many different scales of tourism to appeal to the variety of people who come to visit, but I feel that the tangible financial impact is not the only thing that should be measured. Impact on the land, the water, and the people themselves must be always part of the equation.

Otherwise, who is the tourism really benefiting?

"flirty 30s"

2008-10-12T09:05:00.004-06:00

As much as I have tried to adopt to the culture here, there is one thing I just have not been able to do--namely, become like the great majority of women here who put great effort into their appearance. Even on the bus, fancy blouses, high heels, perfectly touched make-up, and color coordinated jewelry on the ladies are common sights. But for as long as I can remember, I have been the get up-shower-get dressed-out the door kind of gal (I think I honed the 15 minute routine my freshman year when I had an 8:30am class).

So here in Nicaragua, my low maintenance self is even more pronounced because of how quickly and easily I get sweaty and dirty. For me, there seems to be little point to the whole charade of hairdos and makeup and nice clothes. (I mean, as long as I'm clean and not wrinkled...)

But, every once in a while, there's a reason to go through the effort of dressing up--this weekend, it was one of the Dordt students (Sonya) who was staying at our house. Upon learning that my roommate and I were going out to dinner and a concert with some girlfriends, she proceeded to insist that I should paint my toenails, wear my cutest clothes, put on all kinds of make-up (even eyeliner, which I NEVER wear), and let her do my hair. "You're in your sexy, flirty thirties, Pamela," she said. (Meanwhile, I am laughing my head off.)

Sonya was really into it, though, so I played along, and I have to admit it was fun to be girly for a couple of hours and wear some clothes that under normal circumstances, I would never EVER wear in a culture where women attract attention just by breathing close to men.

So, 45 minutes later, this (above) was me and Andrea ("we're kinda like the odd couple" I joked as we walked out, given our very different clothing choices that night), ready to hit the town. (She loves to make funny faces in photos.) :-) We had a great time with our girlfriends--we ate at this hip new Peruvian restaurant and then attended an awesome Carlos Mejia Godoy concert--he and his band are just amazingly talented.

(But no, no flirting for me.)

renovacion interna

2008-10-09T22:14:00.002-06:00

"El tiempo otorgado a la renovación interna nunca se malgasta.
Dios no tiene prisa.”
–H. Nouwen

[Time spent on internal renewal is never wasted. God is not in a hurry.]

It's a good thing He's not, because I'm slow. For every step forward, it seems there is always a step back...but this week I was encouraged because I got to attend some cool seminars at my new church by a Bible scholar guy on the Gospel of John, which is the first book of the Bible I ever read, and the Word that God used to make Jesus real and alive to me at the very beginning of my faith journey as a Christian. We did the study (in Spanish, of course) in manuscript format, which reminded me of IVCF days...and I loved it.

In a way, I feel like I am coming full circle. I felt earlier this month like I needed to be "born again" in a sense to recover some precious parts of my faith that I feel I have lost over the last couple of years, and as I was sitting listening to exposition of some of the most familiar words of Scripture, they spoke to me in a new way...it made me want to dig back into familiar passages again and see what new things might be in store for me there. I've neglected that quite a bit here, as my predisposition to action and service has taken over much of my reflective side (which seems to only get attention when things reach crisis mode, or when I can't sleep.)

All of that said, it was really cool to spend time these last two evenings talking about my favorite Gospel with a bunch of older Nicaraguan women with lots of insight and humor. Which sort of brings me to another subject that merits another post down the road...my whole spiritual community life has kind of been like a random assortment of patches over the last two and a half years...but maybe, just maybe, unbeknownst to me, a beautiful warm quilt is forming.

long distance democracy

2008-10-09T14:31:00.002-06:00

Just a quick post because I am super excited that my absentee ballot came in the mail today (along with some books from a friend--thank you Twists!)...and that I will be able to vote in the most historic presidential election of my life thus far.

26 days and counting! :-)

P.S. Nicaragua also has an election this November (Sunday, November 9th)--every city will be electing a new mayor (term limit laws prohibit incumbents from running)--and the campaign season is in full swing (though I avoid most of it by not watching Nica tv). In Managua, the contest is between neo-liberal former presidential candidate Eduardo Montealegre (perhaps not so affectionately known as "El Ratoncito" around town) and former boxer Alexis Arguello of the FSLN (Sandinistas). About a month ago the Supreme Electoral Council decided that two other parties had violated some election related laws and would not be able to participate in the elections. Whether or not the decision was justified, it certainly is limiting people's options this time around because of the well-known "pacto" between Daniel Ortega and his rival and former president Aleman that enables the two of them to control the majority of government related decisions. Wish I could say more, but I can't.

morning (wet) commute

2008-10-07T15:47:00.005-06:00

This is one morning I wish I had pictures of...but I don't, so the description will have to suffice.

So we're in the middle of heavy rainy season here in Nicaragua, which means that frequently it rains all night, or all afternoon, or all morning. Anytime, really--you get the picture.

So yesterday was one of those days that it was raining at 7am when my roommates and I had to leave to go to the office. It wasn't totally pouring (just a steady drizzle), so we decided to go for it. We donned our rain jackets and headed out into the gray chilly capital, bravely crossing the high-traffic street in front of our neighborhood to wait for the bus. We stood under a tree, which helped a little but already I was starting to feel the rain through my jacket before we even got on the bus. (My hood actually functioned remarkably well, though ironically my hair was the only part of me that was actually already wet since I don't use a hair dryer here.)

Finally the bus came, we boarded, and the rain continued as we journeyed up past the U.S. Embassy (I see it every morning), and to our transfer point (the infamous 7 Sur), where we got off and walked across the busiest intersection in the city to wait for a microbus to take us up the hill.

Now, at this point, I have to say, I was ready to take a cab. My purse was already soaked and the front of my pants were quite damp. But, since my roommates seemed fine, I decided to be a good sport and go with the flow. Thankfully, we were able to quickly board a microbus up the hill to the cemetery entrance where we got off--right as the rain picked up.

And really, folks, this was just the beginning...because we spent the next 20 minutes walking through medium-hard rain from the cemetery to the office. On a non-rainy day, it is a very pleasant walk (though we do frequently arrive sweating profusely due to the humidity). I kept hoping someone with a vehicle would pass us (as often happens), but of course on this comedy-of-a-morning, we would have no such good fortune. We would walk the whole way (although it wasn't til half way through that I decided to actually roll my pants up to try to limit the mud stains on them).

Ever the cup-is-half-full types, Andrea and Alicia proceeded to list all of the ways the morning could have been worse.

We could be homeless. We could have not eaten breakfast this morning. We could be that kid with no shoes walking through the puddles (okay, actually I would have rather been him). By the end, I was soaked and miserable, but I was laughing at the absurdity of it all. For 80 cordoba (about $4), we could have avoided all of this. But since we decided to go the hard core cross-cultural workers route (cultural bonding, anyone?) like the crazy north americans we are, we got drenched. (And really, no Nica would have done what we did. They would have taken a moto-taxi or done anything else possible to avoid walking in the rain.)

It was quite the experience. The perfect way to start the day that I taught my first Nicaraguan history class.

I love this country.

nouwen

2008-10-06T14:55:00.001-06:00

“A menudo, los dolores más profundos están escondidos en los rincones mas pequeños.”

–Henri Nouwen

[Often, the most profound pain is hidden in the smallest places.]

hijas del sol

2008-09-30T19:12:00.005-06:00

It's seven months away, but the reality of leaving Nicaragua came a little bit closer today when I submitted my first grad school application. For anyone who's wondering, I'm applying to UT Austin's Latin American Studies Program, with the hope of focusing on women and development issues. I worked a fair amount this summer on what I hope is a compelling statement of purpose, which I chose to begin with a few verses of a well-known poem by Nicaraguan poet Ruben Dario called Ode to Roosevelt.

“Mas la América nuestra, que tenía poetas desde los viejos tiempos… que desde los remotos momentos de su vida vive de luz, de fuego, de perfume, de amor, la América del gran Moctezuma, del Inca, la América fragante de Cristóbal Colón, la América católica, la América española…esa América que tiembla de huracanes y que vive de Amor, hombres de ojos sajones y alma bárbara, vive. Y sueña. Y ama, y vibra; y es la hija del Sol.”

It says (more or less), "But Our America, that had poets since ancient times, that since the remotest moments of its life has lived from light, from fire, from perfume, from love, the America of the great Moctezuma, the Inca, the fragrant America of Christopher Columbus, the Catholic america, the Spanish America--this America that shakes from hurricanes and lives on love, men of saxon eyes and barbaric soul, lives. And dreams. And loves. And is vibrant. And is the daughter of the sun."

The poem celebrates the heart and soul of Latin America while warning the United States that its imperial claws will never be enough to destroy the spirit of this people. Oh, how close they have come...but no, even still, the hearts of my Nica friends still beat free...and they could not be chained any more than the sun. And neither will I.

Which is why I concluded my statement of purpose this way:

More than anything else, I think about women like Darling as I apply for this Master’s Program. Women who bear the hopes and struggles of a thousand sons and daughters like heavy buckets of water atop their heads. Women who rise at 4am to make tortillas and gallo pinto for their families, but who always are the last to eat. These women—“hijas del Sol”--are my sisters. And their future is my future.

Here's hoping for some grace to continue reaching for the sun (and an acceptance letter down the road).

on seeing

2008-09-29T18:01:00.003-06:00

I saw something on my way to church yesterday that jarred me emotionally, and which I promptly forgot about until 24 hours later…now.

It was a young man standing alone on the road sniffing glue. Shortly after I saw him, I saw another man bent over with his head in his hands.

Both looked truly sad—and yet there was nothing I could do for them.

I’m so used to feeling powerless now, used to seeing poverty, hunger, disease, despair…so what was it about this time?

Living in those thirty seconds again right now, I find myself asking: What does it really mean to have empathy? What does it mean to live in solidarity with other people’s suffering when you know you will NEVER face anything like what the people around you face daily?

No matter how many times I’ve asked them before, these questions come storming back to me, clamoring for attention, demanding something more than a simplistic response. Especially since I spent the last week in the awkward tension of being completely self-absorbed, sick and tired in my bed, while reading about Henri Nouwen’s journey of discovery that leads him to abandon his position of prestige at Harvard in order to be part of the Daybreak Community (a group of folks with special physical and emotional needs) in Canada. Here is someone who not only figured out the secret of what he calls “downward mobility” in his spiritual search to see God more clearly, but actually did it. Actually left things, and people, and a position, and dreams…for what?

For the joy of nothing more than belonging, for experiencing his common humanity alongside people who shared none of his scholarly talents but understood better than anyone the depth of his heart's need for love. For the joy of knowing and being known—of seeing and being seen.

Perhaps that’s it…the message of those 30 seconds is a reminder to see…

To see that God is there in that person’s situation, the one which seems on its face the least like mine, the furthest out of the realm of potential futures of my existence…which maybe is taking a step toward something really simple yet profoundly important.

To see that God’s desire is to show love to them, that person that I have the hardest time accepting or believing that even needs my attention…which maybe is moving me toward understanding a mustard seed of God’s truth about our need for Him.

To see that God’s forgiveness extends to them, that person who wronged me so terribly that I say the universe itself cries out for justice on my behalf…which, maybe, just maybe, helps me to say that yes, I can truly love my fellow man.

O Señor, abre mis ojos. Veme y déjame ver.

musical interlude

2008-09-27T15:28:00.003-06:00

One of the small but real things that I miss from home--yes, even 2+ years later--is the morning commute--and the radio that accompanied it. I was never faithful to any one station--I was just as likely to hum along to the pop country songs as the 80s favorites that I seriously think I still know all the words to. And during basketball playoff season, well, it was a sure bet that I would tune into the Sports talk radio shows for just long enough to get my Silver and Black fix.

Here in Nicaragua, I don't have a radio in my house--and I don't have a car, so I am totally at the mercy of the musical selections of whatever bus my roommates and I board in the morning. If I'm lucky, there's a little bit of Toad the Wet Sprocket or Genesis or Bryan Adams (I know, I know) to ease the transition...and if I'm not so lucky, it's pure Daddy Yankee and reggaeton the whole 45 minutes.

All of this to say that not having a radio has made me much more of a itunes and youtube music listener than I ever was prior to living here. And boy have my tastes evolved. I can count on one hand the artists I still listen to from my old library (Jennifer Knapp, Jars of Clay, and Caedmon's Call). But I have discovered a wealth of beautiful new music living here--Nicaraguan artists like Duo Guardabarranco, which I have mentioned before in this space--and a ton of other folk/indie, Latin, and Spanish Christian music--that I might have never known about otherwise.

Just as a small muestra (sample), I offer my current top 10 most played songs on itunes...

1. Your Love is Strong (Jon Foreman)

2. Lovers without Love (Joshua James)

3. Mercy of the Fallen (Dar Williams)

4. Tu poeta (Alex Campos) -- seriously, I hope if I ever get married, we play this song at our wedding

5. Falling Awake (Gary Jules)

6. Levantete y Resplandece (Marcos Barrientos)

7. My Song (Brandi Carlile)

8. Mis heridas (Katia Cardenal)

9. You Never Let Go (Matt Redman)

10. God of this City (Chris Tomlin)

And as a bonus, one of my favorite songs that I've only been able to find on youtube...Axel Fernando's Amo. (Yes, it's official. I am a sucker for poetic love songs. But even if you don't speak a word of Spanish, you will love this one--the piano is just stellar.)

gripe

2008-09-24T10:56:00.003-06:00

In Spanish, "the flu." Apparently it's been going around for months, but it hit me like a ton o'bricks Monday morning for the first time this year, so bad that by 11am my alternating fever/chills were uncontrollable and my roommate graciously drove me home from the office.

Since then, I've done nothing much but sleep for 18 hours a day...but one positive thing about being completely bed-ridden is a chance to read books that had just been sitting neglected on the shelf--like a book I bought ages ago called Camino a Casa (The Way Home) by Henri Nouwen. It's an amazing read thus far, and I must say that reading English books translated to Spanish is a lot easier than books written in Spanish first!!

I'm starting to feel a little better, so today I ventured out to the store to buy some fruit and Gatorade--everything was going just fine until I hit the checkout line. Suddenly, as I was staring outside into the light (there's a song waiting to be written here), my vision grew blurry and I felt like I was going to throw up and pass out (in that order). I hastily grabbed onto the nearest vending machine and tried to maintain control while coughing. Thankfully, after about 2 scary minutes (which felt like 15), the sensation passed, and I was able to check out, bag my groceries, hail a cab (I wasn't taking any chances even though it's only a 10 minute walk to my house), and get home without further incident. (BTW, this is the second time this has happened to me here--the other time was in a local farmacy. So weird.)

***
Meanwhile, as the increased levels of rain slowly bring the temperature down to a less insane level, the political climate is heating up with the official start of the municipal election season here in Nicaragua tomorrow (election day is Nov. 5th). On Saturday our Dordt students got a first hand taste of it as they almost couldn't leave Leon for our trip to Granada because of some anti-protest protestors (it's complicated) blocking the roads in and out of the city. The situation actually got much worse before it got better, but thankfully by then the students had made it out and were safe with us until the crisis was resolved--and they got back into Leon just fine later that night.

la mesa de gracia

2008-09-23T08:17:00.004-06:00

Esta semana en medio de una inundación de dudas y miedos, una y otra vez una sola imagen de gracia me está llegando como fuente de consuelo y esperanza que tanto necesito en estos días.

Es la imagen de la mesa a la cual Jesús invitó sus discípulos, donde compartió el pan y la copa. Es una mesa de gracia a la que Jesús me invita también…y no porque soy digna de estar allí, sino precisamente porque no la soy. Porque no hay otro Pan Eterno sino por El, el pan vivo, la fuente de agua viva, vida eterna—que sacia, que consuela, que sana y restaura. Las palabras de Apocalipsis vuelven a mi mente—“Mira que estoy a la puerta y llamo. Si alguno oye mi voz y abre la puerta, entraré, y cenaré con él, y él conmigo.”

Oigo este versículo en voz primera, un llamado personal del Salvador—abre la puerta de tu corazón, hija, al Amor que es más grande de tu pecado. Imagino una mesa pequeña dentro de mí, sencilla, con un plato de pan y un vaso humilde. Jesús y yo estamos sentados en el piso, y me está mirando al fondo de mis ojos, más allá de mi vergüenza. Observo en mi alrededor el espacio humilde donde estamos, en mi corazón traidor, infiel, dividido. Polvo y telaraña en todos lados, cubriendo la estantería donde las historias de Su fidelidad en mi vida están escritas. De repente estoy incomoda, consciente que El ve mucho mas allá de mis mecanismos de autoprotección.

Pero te abro la puerta, Jesús. Te invité a entrar, hacer de mi corazón Tu hogar, un rincón donde Tu Espíritu puede habitar. Te invité a entrar, no porque tengo ni la cosa más pequeña darte de comer, sino porque Te necesito desesperadamente llenar mis espacios vacios. Porque necesito desesperadamente que las imágenes de pecado y muerte que me persiguen y me condenan sean purificadas por Tu fuego santo.

Como candelas que eliminan todos los otros olores en un cuarto, que Tu Espíritu transforme mis huesos muertos en flores bellas, una ofrenda fragrante y aceptable en Tus ojos, O Señor.

the dordt 7

2008-09-21T19:36:00.003-06:00

They are Matt, Sarah, Leah, Ben, Melissa, Abi, and Sonya--and they have become a huge part of my life over the last several weeks. These 7 Dordt students are here in Nicaragua for the semester studying Nica history, politics, culture, development, and Spanish, among other things, through a partnership between the Nehemiah Center and Dordt. Several other Nehemiah Center staff are serving as faculty for the program, and I am involved as a teaching assistant for one class and weekly instructor for another (with the watchful oversight of my PhD holding boss!).

Every Monday these students come to Managua for 6 hours of class, and every Friday I go to Leon (where they live with host families) to meet with them to discuss such things as cultural values, poetry, music, adjusting to new customs, US-Nica relations, and much more. In between they take Spanish classes at a school in Leon and participate in service-learning activities.

They are a very adventurous and inquisitive group and I am really enjoying getting to know them and helping facilitate their learning experience here in this country I love so much!

si no fuera

2008-09-21T17:39:00.003-06:00

Empecé a escribir en mi diario hoy como quisiera tener un corazón sin heridas, pero me di cuenta que realmente las heridas sirven por un Propósito mucho mas grande de lo que pueda imaginar—como dijo el autor Brennan Manning en una reflexión que leí en la mañana, “Dios es experto en hacer éxito del fracaso.”

Venia esta tarde, pues, la siguiente reflexión, inspirada por mi vida actual caminando con Jesús en un proceso sanador, y también por una reflexión recién hecha por Karla, alguien que ni conozco pero cuyas palabras me hablaron de manera personal.

Si no fuera por mis heridas,
no conociera el Sanador
Si no fuera por mi esclavitud,
no conociera la verdadera libertad
Si no fuera por mi soledad,
no conociera la plena comunión
Si no fuera por el silencio,
no conociera Su voz
Si no fuera por mis inquietudes,
no conociera la paz profunda
Si no fuera por mis pecados,
no apreciaría Su gracia sin límites
Si no fuera por mi fragilidad
no me pondría en Sus manos
ni dependiera de Su poder
Si no fuera por un rechazo doloroso,
no buscaría el Amor Eterno

He empezado a leer un nuevo libro, Camino a Casa (Nouwen), que me parece ser la consigna de mi vida por los meses próximos. Les dejo con una breve cita de ello que me llamó mucho la atención cuando la leía:

“¿Quiero que Jesús me vea? ¿Quiero que El me conozca? Recibiré nuevos ojos que puedan ver los misterios de la vida propia de Dios cuando yo permita que Dios me vea, aun esas partes que yo misma no quiero ver.”

Igual que Henri, oro al Señor esta noche: “O Dios, veme, y déjame ver.”

diplomatic encounters

2008-09-20T19:20:00.004-06:00

Last night I had the unusual opportunity to attend a townhall meeting (more like a welcome party, to be honest) at the U.S. Embassy here in Managua. The reason for the party? Well, there's a new ambassador in town named Robert Callahan, and it appears he was very interested in getting to know the ex-pat community here. So, I and 150 of my fellow citizens packed the new embassy for some short remarks by Callahan and some other embassy personnel on how we are all ambassadors, the importance of certain safety/security precautions, and to enjoy some free food and other goodies.

Callahan has a long history of diplomatic service all over the world, including stints in Italy, Iraq, and Honduras. And that's where the most interesting part of the story lies. You see, Callahan was the press attache to the U.S. ambassador to Honduras at the time of the Contra war against the Sandinista government in the 1980s. And Honduras was the site where the Contra troops trained and strategized (with the implicit and explicit approval of my government).

Of course, a welcome party is no time to ask your new ambassador whether he thinks his historical baggage will play any role in his ability to make good relationships with the Nicaraguan government (currently headed by the very man the U.S. funded Contras sought to undermine). (But it's certainly something being discussed in the press and in some ex-pat circles here.) So when I shook his hand and spoke with him briefly during the reception, I just asked him how Central America now compared to what he remembered from two decades ago. He answered with the vague diplomatic air I would expect from the State department--that poverty here appears to have increased, etc, etc, but the country is beautiful, etc etc.

I also spoke briefly with his wife, who seems like a lovely woman, genuinely interested in what I was doing here in Nicaragua, with all the graces one would expect of someone who has spent their life in the public eye.

There were countless other people at this event who I had never seen before--the ex-pat community in Nicaragua is quite large, ranging from retired people to NGO workers to missionaries (there were even some conservative Mennonites present in their traditional attire--I wish they had allowed cameras in so I could have taken pictures for you, A!).

It took quite a lot of emotional energy to enter into a social situation like this, so common in the States, and so removed from my daily life here. But I was glad to have as my companion a new friend Kirstin who is a Rotary ambassador (I'm sensing a theme here) with a heart of gold...she is also connected to some of the projects we are doing in the community of El Ojoche. Kirstin is based in Leon and came back into town with me after my class with the Dordt students--and spent the night at our house afterwards. She's only got a few weeks left in the country, but I am glad our paths crossed.

In the spirit of the evening of diplomatic encounters, my prayer tonight is for peace for the millions of people in our world living in places of violence, pain, struggle, or heartache. La paz de Cristo sea con todos que la necesiten.

a song and a prayer

2008-09-17T23:18:00.003-06:00

Back in 2000, when I studied "abroad" in Washington DC, I listened incessantly to the music of Jennifer Knapp. In sadness, loneliness, and despair, her lyrics spoke to the condition of my soul and gave me words to pray when I had none of my own.

Listening anew to "Martyrs and Thieves" this week, I am struck by way these same lyrics describe the myriad of thoughts and emotions that I have felt lately.

There are ghosts from my past who've owned more of my soul
Than I thought I had given away
They linger in closets and under my bed
And in pictures less proudly displayed
A great fool in my life I have been
Have squandered till pallid and thin
Hung my head in shame and refused to take blame
For the darkness I know I've let win

So turn on the light and reveal all the glory
I am not afraid
To bare all my weakness knowing in meekness
I have a kingdom to gain
Where there is peace and love in the light, in the light
Oh I am not afraid
To let Your light shine bright in my life, in my life

I wrote to someone tonight, someone who knows the depth of my darkness...to tell them that in the last week I have suddenly seen the sky clearing, the delicate light of "la madrugada" entering the most desolate spaces in my heart...and I dare to believe that there may yet be a new dawn.

O Lord, let me live in the light, as You are light. May my weakness be all the more reason to rely on your grace rather than my own strength. Grant me the gift of peace in the midst of turmoil, and a sense of Your abiding love in the midst of profound solitude.

Amen.

huehuete

2008-09-16T11:20:00.007-06:00

Pronounced "wehwehtay"...it's the name of the beach I and 20-something other jovenes from my church descended upon yesterday, taking advantage of the Nica tradition of celebrating holidays at the beach...(historical note: September 14th and 15th are the days Nicaragua celebrates its independence from Spain and William Walker, in reverse order)

It was good to get out of the city and spend some time talking and playing together with my new friends. The kind of mental break I've really been needing in the midst of a very personally challenging time.

Muchachos, les quiero mucho!!

More pictures from the trip at this link.

buscando sentido

2008-09-15T06:39:00.002-06:00

En las caras de amigos
veo una felicidad
hasta hora inalcanzable para mí

la felicidad que viene con una mano
para la jornada
un alma que habla a mi alma
palabras de aliento en el espíritu
el tocar, abrazar, besar
la creación de nueva vida

O Amor Invisible,
tanto busco Tu expresión, Tu llegada
en los ojos, en la voz, en el corazón, las manos
de los seres humanos

Amor mío,
tanto espero un día verte,
ver en tus ojos que soy la que esperaba
aun con todos mis defectos

Pero en estos momentos de soledad y tristeza,
Te pregunto si ¿me estas castigando?
¿Que es lo que tengo que aprender?
¿Sera que un día me sentiré perdonada y nueva?

O Dios Tu conoces mi corazón, mi fragilidad
Líbreme de mi pecado y mi maldad
Ayúdeme a reconocer Tu gracia
aun en medio de esta valle de huesos tan llena de muerte
Que vuelva conocerte
Que mis palabras y mis hechos vuelvan a ser agradables ante ti, Jesús.
Que la vida vuelva a tener sentido…

noble sosten

2008-09-13T17:52:00.002-06:00

One of the most beautiful songs I sang in Mexico at the conference I attended back in July was this one--Noble Sosten. It's all about how God is the one who maintains our hope, who sustains us in the struggle, who gives us peace. How when we are weak, He is there to hold us up, that we might not lose heart, that we might not fear death.

Every time I sing it, it brings tears to my eyes. How I need You in these hours, Lord. You seem far away, but You are still my only hope.

Noble sosten de la esperanza mia
Fuerte bendita de vida eterna
Tan solo el alma, que en Tus fuerzas fia
//Tiene paz//

//Mi sosten es Jesus
Nunca en la lucha desmayar podre//

Dura es la lucha, dificil la tarea
Mas Tu me dotas, de Tu gran poder
Mi espiritu renuevas, con la idea nueva
//De vencer//

Yo soy muy debil, pero en Ti soy fuerte
Nunca en las luchas desmayar podre
Si Tu estas conmigo ni a la misma muerte
//Temere//

the other september 11th

2008-09-11T19:08:00.002-06:00

First let me say I join all my fellow citizens in mourning the losses caused by the attacks on my country seven years ago today--and all the losses that have occurred since too.

Living in Latin America, however, I have learned that this date has a whole other significance which I was completely ignorant of until a few months ago. Remembering that "injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere", I would like to share with you a little about the other September 11th, one that is remember far to the south and all over Latin America. And remembered quite differently than perhaps US history teaches us.

It was 1973. A failed coup had already been attempted once on the President of Chile at that time, Salvador Allende. Soon afterward the national assembly condemned President Allende's alleged unconstitutional activity. Allende was a socialist and suspected communist sympathizer. With an eye on potential Russian interference in the hemisphere, the US backed the opposition to Allende's unity government, and on September 11th, he was removed by military coup, setting up Augusto Pinochet's reign of terror. Pinochet set up a military dictatorship that would last until 1990.

Chili's story is similar to Nicaragua's. Both bear the scars of US interventions that led to violent dictatorships lasting multiple decades. Dictatorships that killed off their opposition, destroyed national resources, stole from the people, and even imprisoned artists. One Chilean artist killed in the aftermath of Pinochet's takeover was Victor Jara, a beloved writer and poet who had been active in Allende's campaign. Jara was murdered 5 days after the coup. He was just 38.

Perhaps it is irreverent and even un-patriotic to point out the failures of US foreign policy on so solemn an occasion as today. However, I have always believed that love for one's country should not make one blind to its faults. I believe my country can be much better than it has been in its relationship not only with Latin America, but with the entire world--and it is out of a great love and hope for the United States' capacity to rise from the ashes (as it did in the weeks following 9/11) and make good on its promise that I share this story from the heart of Central America tonight.

Peace.

my crazy friend miguel, and other weekend tales

2008-09-08T20:40:00.003-06:00

Miguel is one of the fun new friends I have made at my new church. The group of jovenes (youth) ranges from 20ish to 30ish, so it makes for quite the bunch. Students, working professionals, and everything in between. Musicians, environmental activists, NGO program coordinators, accountants, architects...well, you get the idea. Last night was the weekly Sunday gathering, and Miguel was in a "I wanna look like a gangsta funk", thus the look.

This is one of the busiest weekends I have had lately--I saw two movies (21 and Elizabeth), went to my new Saturday morning Latin dance class (2 hours of hard core salsa, samba, merengue, bachata, cha-cha, and reggaeton--and no partner needed--and lots of different skill levels--definitely my kind of place), cooked a spaghetti dinner with some other North American friends (and one European!), traveled to Leon to document a youth leadership training, met a blood transfusion expert on the way home who made me jealous with all her tales of life in Europe where she had studied, read up on folk religion for the Dordt class this morning, and went to church. [Insert deep breath here.]

Hopefully I won't crash on Wednesday.

"if I could just get to the States"

2008-09-03T18:36:00.002-06:00

I can't tell you how many times I have heard that phrase or some version of it from taxi drivers and other random people I have met around Nicaragua. There is a widespread sense that life is never going to be any better here, that economic opportunity is completely out of reach for the majority of the population, and that the only real hope lies in securing a visa or other means of leaving the country.

Every morning on my bus ride to work I pass the U.S. Embassy, where already at 7:30am there is a line of people waiting to be seen, hoping to be granted a chance at the "American dream". Then there are the thousands of others who chose the southern route, taking seasonal or domestic work in Costa Rica. The CR visa is a little easier to come by, but Nicas are scarcely welcome--relegated to the most undesirable jobs and paid pitiful wages while living in conditions that are sometimes worse than where they lived here.

I'm thinking about all of this today, because a new survey just came out in the press today that says that 70% of the population wants to leave the country!! 70%!!!! Think about that--can you even imagine if 70% of the USA's citizens were that unhappy that they wanted to leave their country? (Just last May the percentage of Nicas who wanted to leave was 45%). The majority of people surveyed said they wanted to leave to find a job or to improve their economic situation.

What that tells you is that the economy here is truly getting worse--work is harder to come by than ever, and prices show no signs of falling--and people are feeling increasingly helpless. (It would be a lot worse too if it weren't for the average annual remittances of USD$1000 to 1/5 of the families here.)

I feel helpless too--but of course for different reasons--being here all of this time and seeing so many things not only not change but actually get worse--it's beyond depressing. It's heartbreaking. The macro level changes needed for this country's socio-economic conditions to improve are so immense and complicated I can't even begin to imagine.

I think that's why somewhere along the way I decided that whatever career I chose, I would have to work at the local level--otherwise I would be completely overwhelmed all the time.

Today is a day where I feel overwhelmed.

an old, new foto

2008-09-01T18:29:00.003-06:00

From this past February when I was translating for the St. Raphael's team. We just got a disk of photos from one of the team members. Isn't this woman adorable????!!!!

in need of a shepherd

2008-09-01T18:14:00.001-06:00

Recently I discovered that a Guatamalan friend, a Salvadorian friend. and I have something in common—something besides all being women. We are all having a really difficult time fitting in within our respective church homes here in Nicaragua.

All this time I thought it was just my problem—but I think it’s one of the barely mentioned secrets of missionary life that being seen as just another member of the host culture church you plant yourself in is a serious uphill battle.

For my first two years, I attended a large evangelical church here in Managua, a church where the worship and preaching are very dynamic. Yet week after week, I was greeted by strangers who did not even ask me my name, never mind invite me into any other aspect of the life of the church. Repeated efforts to join small groups or get connected in some way yielded little response. I don’t know how the other missionaries attending this church felt, but I began to feel completely isolated and alone.

Having come from a church in San Antonio where I knew all the other young adults by name, regularly had deep conversations with various generations within the congregation, and considered my pastor my friend, this was really hard on my spirit. I confess, for a while I stopped going to church altogether. I was completely disillusioned.

Finally, several months ago, I started going to another church, a more traditional denomination with wood benches in place of folding chairs, a printed order of worship, and piano/choir led singing instead of a band. The choir’s voices are beautiful and help me meet with God in a different way than the exuberance of my former church. The pastor (who I’ve actually talked to and remembers who I am) is thoughtful in his preaching, but not emotional. And that’s more than okay. This church has something else, too. A group of jovenes (youth) in their 20s that meets every Sunday night, where I’ve started to make some new friends. Instead of “hermana”, there I am Pamela. And that’s a great feeling.

Still, it’s hard to overcome the constant sense of being an outsider. I’d been in the same church back home so long (8 years—yikes) that I think I’ve completely forgotten what it’s like to be new and have to start over. Everyone else has a history, a web of relationships and inside jokes, and family connections that tie them together. I am the new girl. And while I am interesting because I am a gringa, I’m not in anyone’s confianza (trust circle) yet. While I am accepted and greeted with hugs and smiles, I don’t yet have the confidence to share my deepest hurts and needs with even the closest of these new friends.

Even more than a circle of friends, I think what I miss the most is having a pastor. Perhaps, as my Guatamalan friend remarked to me, it’s because the Nicas don’t think a missionary needs a pastor. That others are far more needy than someone like me. But the truth is that lately I feel a lot like a lost sheep. And I’ve rarely needed a pastoral conversation , a trustworthy soul, more than right now.

And the nearest one is thousands of miles away.

el Dios de los pobres

2008-08-17T07:53:00.003-06:00

"Vos sos el Dios de los pobres [You are the God of the poor]
El Dios humano y sencillo [The human and simple God}
El Dios que suda en la calle [The God who sweats on the street]
El Dios de rostro curtido. [The God with a weather beaten face]
Por eso es que te hablo yo [That's why I speak to you]
Así como te habla mi pueblo [Just like my people speak to you]
Porque sos el Dios obrero [Because you are the worker God]
El Cristo trabajador... [the worker Christ]

Yo te he visto en uno pulpería [I have seen you in a corner store]
Te he visto vendiendo lotería [I have seen you selling lottery tickets]
sin que te avergüence ese papel. [without being ashamed of this role]
Yo te he visto en las gasolineras [I have seen you in the gas stations]
Chequeando los llantas de un camión [checking the tires of a truck]
Y hasta patroleando carreteras [even patrolling the highways]
con guantes de cuero y overol. [with leather gloves and overalls]

The poetry above is part of the Nicaraguan Misa Campesina, or people's mass. It was written in the 1970s by Carlos Mejia Godoy, one of the country's most famous musicians, who traveled extensively throughout Nicaragua to listen to the voices of the people, to create this work of art. The words are the slang of the campo, the instruments are the ones played by the people, and the message? The message is the message of Immanuel--that God is with us in the most humble of places, most difficult of circumstances, and that He understands because he has been there.

I had a chance to hear the entire Misa live in Nicaragua's national theater last week performed by Carlos Mejia Godoy, his band, and a group of classical musicians. (It was sort of a strange juxtaposition to be singing of Christ being in solidarity with the poor while sitting in a huge air conditioned theater, but it was also interesting to see how the entire population of Nicaragua, of all social classes, has come to appreciate this music and how they sang along with pride and emotion during some of the songs.)

All in all, it was a powerful experience for me to consider how this musical work has touched the lives of so many people, how it has brought the reality of God's presence and love closer to people who perhaps don't even own clothes they consider nice enough to enter a church, and how the gospel must speak into social injustices, as well as our spiritual soul condition.

For the words and work of Christ are not only for me, but for my neighbor and my community as well. And especially for the least of these.

(p.s. Thanks Jenny for the correction to one of the lines--I thought something was off!)

major fire in managua

2008-08-05T20:09:00.002-06:00

Friends, I know there is plenty of suffering all over the world every day--I just want to share one piece of that suffering that is affecting the families of people here in Nicaragua this week.

There was a major fire in Managua's largest open-air market (some say it's the largest open-air market in Central America) a couple days ago. It took the fire fighters two days to put it out, and in the meantime it destroyed several acres of land covered with various little stores where people sell all kinds of household items, clothing, shoes, automotive supplies, food, and anything else you can think of--a grand total of at least $2 million dollars worth of merchandise. Yes, dollars. Many of these small business people had loans with various banks that they used to buy of the goods they sell--and they lost everything. Others had been building their business for 2o years and it all (literally) went up in smoke this week.

The press reported today the apparent cause of the fire was a circuitry issue caused by someone who was stealing power from the electric company.

The economic situation here is already so hard for so many people, with prices rising and work hard to come by. I just ask for your prayers and good thoughts, for those of you so inclined, on behalf of the hundreds of Nicaraguans who lost so much this week and are beginning the work of rebuilding their businesses and their lives.

Que la paz, la gracia, y la sabiduria de Dios sea con todos que han perdido tanto la semana pasada. Ayudales a levantar sus espiritus and comenzar el trabajo de reconstruir sus negocios en una manera que te glorifica, aun en medio de esta tragedia.

cisternas rotas

2008-08-03T14:04:00.003-06:00

I'm sitting in a plastic chair somewhere in rural Queretaro (MX), pondering these words: You have abandoned your first love and replaced it with broken cisterns that cannot hold water.

Cisternas rotas. Broken cisterns.

Cracked and dirty, useless pieces of pottery that dress themselves up with new layers of imaginative colors that draw the eye away from the fissures they try to hide with shame.

I know something about cisternas rotas. Many times in the last year I've eagerly gulped down the sandy water that accumulates in these dusty old clay vessels instead of seeking the pure spring that comes from the eternal Well.

Cisternas rotas. The thing about dirty water is that after a while, you start to forget what the other kind tastes like. You mean there is a place I can drink without guilt or shame? A place I can gather water that will last more than the moment in which I swallow? A kind of water that will truly quench my thirst for love?

I find myself standing at the edge of an old well. I've been here before. Alone, wondering where a truly abundant life really lies. Suddenly, a man appears and asks for a drink. He says something about a well that never runs dry. Ever prone to distraction, I change the subject to a prophesy about the coming of a Messiah. "He will reveal everything to us." Maybe my life with change one day, but certainly not today. Then, this.

"I who speak to you am he."

"Anyone who comes to me and drinks, from within him will flow streams of living water."

He tells me everything I have ever done. He knows it all, and yet he does not run. Nor does his face judge me. A thousand times I have fallen and yet he tells me to go, and tell the others about him.

As I walk away, I think to myself..."Maybe at last I can give up my cisternas rotas."

viva mexico!!!

2008-07-29T19:12:00.002-06:00

No, I haven't changed country assignments. But I did just spend an awesome week with some Nicaraguan college students in the middle of interior Mexico, 3 hours north of the capital (where it was cold!!!). We were there for a sub-regional leadership conference, to which I was invited by my Nica friend Freddy (as an InterVarsity alum, I fit right in with the students and the leadership--it definitely made me miss Chapter Camp and Breakthrough. Anyone else out there miss those days?) in order to encourage and support the Nica delegation.

Anyway, I have a lot to say about the experience, but since I've managed to get sick in the last 24 hours since I came back to Managua, I'm going to have to save the many posts I have stored up in my brain for later on when I have more mental energy--in the meantime, check out the photos!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2037462&l=a0cb9&id=24902194

dirty feet...full heart

2008-07-17T19:54:00.008-06:00

In the midst of the greenest mountains you have ever seen, accessible only by 4-wheel drive vehicles who can handle the rocky, muddy roads (hasta cierto punto), lies El Progreso, a land bank community where for the last several years a small group of farmers have been learning new and better agricultural techniques while paying back a loan through the harvests they sell.

I was there this past weekend because my neighbors (the infamous Gutierrez family) were making their semi-annual trip to this remote community to offer spiritual encouragement and material blessing to these families who are working so hard just to seguir adelante (move forward). Francisco's organization, Accion Medica Cristiana, has an ongoing relationship with the community, which I was blessed to visit for the first time last year on a similar trip organized by the entire family. This year not only their family but friends and children from Managua joined us for the adventure...and adventure indeed it was. Check out photo album here:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2036790&l=b8d82&id=24902194

It was a lot rainier this time around, and even in 4 wheel drive, the trucks we arrived in could not make it out of the muddy valley and back up to the hill on which the community had gathered. So, we walked. Well, I stumbled about quite a bit, having chosen Crocs instead of sneakers, thinking they would hold up better (being plastic and washable and all)--which was a fine theory until the mud slipped into the holes and made it almost impossible to maintain my balance. Alicia (Francisco's wife) told me to take pictures, but of course I couldn't. I could barely stand up!

Anyway, once we finally reached the top, the fun began. Dances, songs, words of welcome, biblical passages of Scripture were all part of the program. Glittery sashes for the moms, toys and clothes for the kids, kites (handmade by Fran) for the families, and lunch for all. I think we were all truly encouraged...I was especially moved by the theme of the event, "Lllenando nuestros graneros...compartiendo" (Filling our silos...sharing). Indeed, we were all "filled" by the mutual joy of sharing the day together--and challenged with the question, "what are we filling ourselves with emotionally and spiritually to give to others?"

At the end of it all, we began the trek down the steep and even muddier hill (it had rained for much of the afternoon), and I was aided by one woman in particular from the community whose name I did not even know. When my shoes got too muddy to walk she helped guide me a stream of water in one of the side gullies that helped remove the extra mud and enabled me to walk again. When I did not know where to put my next step, she told me where to walk--where the rocks almost covered by mud where located. And when we reached the top, she said, "let me get a pan of water to wash your feet." A few minutes later, she came back but she did not give me the pan of water. Instead she proceded to pour water over my feet, gently remove my shoes, and use her hands to rinse my feet until they were clean.

All I could do is give her a hug--which she received joyfully and returned with equal affection. The whole thing left me speechless and thinking...when I have ever been so full of love and gratitude that I would literally--or even metaphorically-- imitate Christ to such a degree in my service to others?

Every time I have looked at my feet this week, I have pondered that question.

visitors!!

2008-07-10T18:45:00.004-06:00

Oh, the sweetness of old friends, the precious moments--happy and sad and trivial and profound--and now a few more shared together in the land of lakes and volcanoes...here, a few of the pics from Cara and Judson and Jeremiah and C's parents' visit this past week. Like honey on the tongue, or melodic harmonies in my ears, their presence here brought a new lightness of spirit and refreshment to my heart. I love you guys!

the global food crisis--in nicaragua

2008-06-19T07:44:00.003-06:00

It's no secret that prices for everything are going up all over the world. While gas is perhaps the one that is most affecting the pocketbooks of the developed world, the cost of essential food items here in Nicaragua has risen exponentially in the last several months. And it's making it even more difficult for people here to feed their families.

Just this morning, the local paper came out with a new article about the situation, which describes how the cost of the "canasta basica" (or what it takes to feed a family of 4 for one month) has risen to 8,330 cordoba (or about $400), a 4% increase over last month..

What is included in the canasta basica? Rice, beans, oil, milk, sugar, and bread make up 2/3 of the total. The other portion is for basic cleaning products like detergent and soap, transportation, cooking gas, electricity and water. In addition, a small amount of cheese, meat (which most people here eat perhaps 1-2 a week), eggs, and fruits/vegetables is included.

You might think that $400 a month isn't too bad for a family of 4, but then you have to consider how much money people are actually making. The average monthly salary here is about 2,000 cordoba (or $100). So this means that even if 2-3 people in a househould are working earning this minimum salary, they aren't making enough to be able to eat.

Wages are not keeping pace with inflation and rising prices. I read an article the other day that described families in the dry northwestern mountains that eat tortillas for breakfast. Just tortillas.

I am trying to imagine what that would be like, and I just can't. Even living in the midst of so many who are malnourished, I still eat mostly whatever I want. Changing my eating habits isn't going to solve the problem, but I sure feel a lot less enthusiastic today about that pollo asado than I did before.

"Concha"

2008-06-06T16:35:00.002-06:00

In the dry and dusty northwestern mountains of Nicaragua, in a small community called El Ojoche, Concepcion ("Concha") and her family survive off the land and the sale of the beautiful handmade pottery that she makes using a small stone oven. It is a skill passed down generation to generation among the women of the community. Even though for years the people of El Ojoche were ridiculed as "dirty" due to the stains the bright red earth left on their hands, Concepcion and others have continued to make piggy banks, chickens, and planting pots to provide for their families.

Over the last two years, I have seen firsthand Concepcion's determination to "seguir adelante" (move forward) and her joyful creativity as she molds and shapes the clay on the dirt floor of her humble home. She reminds me that the criticism of others should never stop us from doing what we love, and that even--and maybe especially--in the most difficult circumstances, creating beauty matters.

[Note: I wrote this short reflection as a submission to an exhibit by Open Hands Studios, whose leadership includes my good friend, video production genius, and cultural anthropologist Jeff.]

my first visitors are coming!

2008-06-05T17:07:00.003-06:00

Perhaps this doesn't exactly merit its own post, but I am excited to share that some of my dearest friends on earth, Cara (on the right in the photo) and her husband Judson, are coming to visit, along with their son and Cara's parents at the end of this month. I cannot wait to share the ssights and sounds and wonders of Nicaragua with them...my very first visitors in over 2 years!

And just a public service announcement...if anyone reading this blog would like to send something down with them for me, leave a comment or shoot me an email and I will give you their contact info should you not have it. :-)

(I am also very excited that Claire--pictured at left in the photo will also be in Nicaragua with her husband and daughter for a Food for the Hungry training this fall! Yippee!)

river crossing

2008-06-03T13:59:00.004-06:00

Every time it rains, this is the river that forms between me and my way out of Nejapa, the neighborhood where the office is. Nejapa is an interesting place...where on one side of the road large and beautiful houses overlook a sweet view of the Nejapa crater, and on the other side, families live in more humble conditions, sharing their patio space with all manner of chickens, dogs, pigs, and horses. Only in the last year was the road from the highway in to our office paved (although with the rain, pothols have quickly formed in many places). It's just as likely that giant cement trucks or horses and carts will pass my roommates and I as we walk in to work.

among other kindred spirits...

2008-06-02T18:37:00.003-06:00

I said goodbye (for now) to my friend Jeff (above) who returned to the States on Friday. Besides being the professor for the semester program that just ended a few weeks ago, he has been my constant political conversation partner over the last 5 months as well as an all around fun person to hang out with. (He'll be back in January with another group of students.)

Jeff is one of a few people here in Nicaragua that I can honestly call kindred spirits. People with whom conversations are never awkward. People with whom I feel understood, but also challenged and encouraged. People with whom I can honestly discuss my struggles as I seek to live faithfully in a second culture not my own.

As much as I love many parts of my life here, there have also been a lot of hard times. And I do not think I would have made it this long without these individuals as a part of my life here. And as I enter my third year, I just want to thank these special friends. You know who you are.

Mil gracias, de verdad. Por todo lo que son y todo lo que han hecho. Les amo mucho.

through adrianna's eyes

2008-05-30T16:27:00.003-06:00

Sometimes it takes fresh eyes to accurately capture a place. Adrianna (left), one of the Dordt students who was here for the last two weeks, wrote this introduction to a reflection on her experience here.

"What is Nicaragua? It is a country where men hunt iguanas and sell them on the side of the road.
It is colorful houses with walls and gates.
It is cathedrals and Spaniards and colonization. It is civil unrest and unstable governments.
It is a transportation strike for better prices, governmental irresponsibility, and volatile times.
Nicaragua is polluted Lake Managua and pristine
Lake Nicaragua.
It is active and extinct volcanoes. It is fresh fruit, sketchy water, toilet paper in trash cans, and people selling things all the time.
It is a land where children greet foreigners with cries of “gringos!”
Nicaragua is poverty and hope; despair and development."

2008-05-29T13:03:00.002-06:00

One of many things that living in Nicaragua for the last two years has confirmed for me is that I love college students. I love to watch them learn, grow, be stretched in their thinking, in their emotions, in their understanding of the world. And these last few weeks I became a learner, a teacher, a translator and interpreter alongside them in their experiences...first, for two weeks, I was the full-time coordinator of the logistics of the visit of 5 Dordt students and their professor and his wife from Iowa. They were here to study missions, development, and culture, and this meant organizing a variety of meetings with everyone from the US Embassy to USAID to other NGOs working here, to farms, to historical sites, to natural wonders and cultural hotspots. It was a lot to take in for the students, I think, and for me too. But I was grateful to walk alongside them in their learning, participate in their reflections, and share my own experiences here with them.

Then, after about 48 hours rest, I headed up to Boaco on Monday where another team headed up by my roomie Andrea was working to help her with translation. While I was there, the team did a lot of activities with the kids, building relationships, and visiting people in their homes, as well as two small construction projects. Being with this other group of college students from Messiah in Pennsylvania was another great opportunity that I enjoyed immensely, although I am now officially exhausted. Visit below for a sampling of the photos from my last two weeks.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2034893&l=39b95&id=24902194

In other news, after 12 days, the transportation strike here is over (though perhaps not for long, because although an agreement was reached for a certain level of subsidiy for the taxi and bus drivers, the price of gas continues to climb and within 2 weeks may eliminate the effects of the subsidy altogether).

Also, Tropical Storm Alma appears likely to convert into a Hurricane overnight and is currenly dumping large quantities of rain on the Pacific Coast of Nicaragua. Streets are flooding and home damage is already being reported in the region. Will keep you all posted on further developments.

in which i explain my sporadic appearances lately

2008-05-10T18:05:00.003-06:00

i know there's only a few of you out there that actually read this blog daily or even weekly, but i still feel the need to explain where i've been lately.

first, last weekend i was with my friend Wendy and her boyfriend in Ocatal near the Honduras border--we actually crossed over and drank some delicious licuados--for pics of that trip visit my Facebook album: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2034002&l=3952f&id=24902194

second, i have been preparing like mad for the arrival of 5 students and a professor and his wife from Dordt College in Iowa who are coming down for a two week interim studying missions and development--with an emphasis on agriculture. this has become an exciting new component of the Nehemiah Center, hosting semester programs nand various kinds of academic experiences for college students...i have really enjoyed being part of the past ones and i am sure this one will be no different.

third, speaking of semester programs, the Trinity Christian College semester program is coming to an end and the students finished up their final projects this week--they each made an outstanding film--which one day i hope will be online for all to appreciate--but i became one of the principle translators for two of the projects--which i greatly enjoyed, but which left me quite exhausted at the end of each day this week.

and finally, this past wednesday, i had a close call when i got hit by a motocycle crossing the street at one of Managua's busiest intersections on my way to work. the good news is, i'm fine (and i have the x-rays to prove it!). the bad news is, my laptop screen in ruined. but at least i'm not black and fractured like it is.

i guess that about sums it up. sorry i won't be around much for another week or so, but i promise to update you on the Dordt experience and everything else life brings my way as soon as i can.

oh, by the way, we're now in day 5 of a taxi-bus strike here, and it's causing quite a bit of concern for many people. i wish i could go into more detail, but nicaraguan politics are mostly taboo on this blog now. but, please, if you are the praying kind, offer up some words for the resolution of this issue. thanks.

paz.

monday mentions

2008-04-28T19:50:00.004-06:00

* This past weekend I fled the suffocating heat of Managua for the gorgeous and cool mountains (long sleeves! yes!) of Esteli, where I spent time with a group of fun and thoughtful fellow ex-pats who were a source of great encouragement and inspiration during the weekend.

* Last night I watched a documentary on the young American engineer and clown Benjamin Linder, which aired on local TV--today is the 21st anniversary of his murder at the hands of the Contra forces in Nicaragua. Benjamin Linder, Presente!

* Rewinding just a bit further, Thursday night I celebrated Earth day (albeit slightly late) at a musical earth festival at a local joint called Ruta Maya (thinking of you, Paul!) with my roommates and some other friends. Performing that night were none other than my favorite Nica musicians, Katia and Salvador Cardenel, the duo whose music I quote often in this space, together with Moises Gadea (Katia's husband), an up and coming artist with a poetic soul and nimble fingers on the guitar strings, and Philip Montalban representing the Caribbean music of this country. They each played a range of beautiful songs dedicated to the beautiful planet we all inhabit, one of which (Dias de Amar, by Guardabarranco) says, "

Vienen ya dias de amar la casa que habitas, Dias de amar la tierra vegetal, flor y animal; Vienen ya rios con aguas sin envenenar Agua que beben los que tienen sed igual que usted. Vienen ya bosques pulmones de la gran ciudad, Selvas que aroman en la oscuridad, noches de paz. "

Days to love the house you inhabit are here; days to love the earth, vegetable, flower, and animal; Rivers with waters that do not poison are coming. Waters drunk by those who have thirst just like you. Forests, lungs of the big city, are coming; trees that give fragrance in the darkness, nights of peace."

Best of all, in the middle of the concert, after hearing on the songs sung by the talented joven Moises, I felt inspired enough to overcome my shyness and introduce myself to him and explain one of the video projects being done by our semester program students--and to ask if he might be willing for his music to be part of this video. It turns out Moises has a special heart for children and youth at risk (much of his music has a very social justice oriented tone), the topic of the documentary Daniel (the student) is working on, and he was more than willing to meet with us (today, in fact!) to discuss the possibilities. We had a great meeting today and I am really excited about the contribution he will make to this project. Not to mention that he is just an all around good guy that I am happy to now know personally.

* If you're not careful, the music of Rodrigo and Gabriela can really make you dizzy.

their faces call me to love

2008-04-15T19:59:00.003-06:00

I spent a day up in Chinandega this week with a team that was working in El Limonal, a community I have written about before on this blog, and here. The team was there to build a concrete floor for the local "cafeteria" (the place the kids eat lunch when it's available), and a storage area. I was there to take pictures, visit with folks, and relate with the team. Of course what normally happens in these situations is that the kids invariably are drawn to the gringa with the camera, and this time was no exception. I think I took photos of every single child who came to the work site last Wednesday. Many of them jumped right in, mixing and shoveling cement with tools built for people twice their size. Other just stared at us and waited for the lollipops (that's another topic for another post). And a few sat with me and sang popular praise songs in Spanish and talked to me about Jesus.

One of them was an 11 year old named Ana Maria (pictured with me above), who sat next to me again at the evangelistic outreach that night, learned how to take photos using my camera, and wrote me a note calling me her "mejor amiga". Such tender expressions from a beautiful girl with an innocent smile and an open heart, who lives in the midst of what many might call despair and misery. Ana and others still live with their eyes wide open to the possibilities of life, willing to laugh, to play, to be children in spite of the daily struggles they face. Their faces call me to love, to cry, to pray, to struggle, to seek justice for these, the least of these, the forgotten on the margins of everything.

May they be forgotten no more.

the fruit of silence

2008-04-08T19:57:00.002-06:00

"The fruit of silence is prayer
the fruit of prayer is faith
the fruit of faith is love
the fruit of love is service
the fruit of service is peace."
-Mother Teresa

Silence is hard to come by here. Or perhaps I should say that it is hard to choose silence. So many are the distractions...and the coping mechanisms that fill many moments of my day that could be better used in silent reflection.

But the fruit of silence is indeed something good and beautiful and true. Silence opens my heart to the Spirit of the Living God who lives within me, though its voice often goes unheard for my own willful deafness.

I am reflecting on this because this past Friday I was given the unique gift of 2 hours of almost uninterrupted silence for prayer as part of a staff spiritual retreat. Away from a desk, away from a computer, my cell phone turned off, leaning against a tree in south Managua, (mostly) removed from the noise of the city, I finally found a sacred space. A space where the words of Scripture penetrated once again. A space where talking to God seemed natural again. (I know it sounds weird to say that, but if you only knew how far I have felt from God in the last 4+ months...)

A space where my heart put new words and a new melody to an old song. Suddenly, an old spring was tapped, and in a quiet voice under a Managua palm tree, I sang to Jesus.

Break me, remake me
Make me more like you
I want to be a new creature
I want to be like you

Cleanse me, forgive me
Make me more like you
Free me, transform me
I want to be like you

I know I've wandered far
I know I've squandered much
But you know it's over now
And I'm running back to you

Break down all the walls
I've built between me and you
Break down all the barriers
that've kept me from you

For you are everything
everything I need
Yes, you are everything
everything to me.
-pjn

I still have a long way to go. But at last I feel like the journey is possible. Peace.

por un mundo justo

2008-04-01T18:57:00.003-06:00

Not too long ago I was at a Duo Guardabarranco concert in the Teatro Nacional with one of the semester program students Emily and "Prof. Jeff"--and afterwards we wandered up the boulevard (I've always thought boulevard is a cool word, don't you?) to the corner store--a place called the On the Run, but is actually more like On the Crawl--where we saw none other than Salvador Cardenal (left), the brother within the famous duo, whose fame began during the cultural revolution that occurred here in Nicaragua as a result of the Sandinista Revolution in the 1980s.

Anyway, one of their songs that I really like is called "Por Un Mundo Justo" , translated below.

No me digas que [Don't tell me]
esto a vos no te importa Porque fuiste niño [that this doesn't matter]
un día y ya se te olvidó [b/c you were a child and you've forgotten]

Cuando ves un niño ves un espejo [When you look at a child, you see a mirror]
De toda la raza humana... ves el porvenir [of the human race]

Cuando ya este mundo no sea nuestro Será [When this world is no longer ours]
de los niños que nos ven vivir Será [of the children that see us it will be]
de los hijos que vienen de ti [of the children that come from you]

Por un mundo justo para los niños [for a just world for the children]
Amasaremos pan de tierra y flores compartido
[We will make mud pancakes & shared flowers]
Por un mundo alegre para los niños [for a joyful world for the children]
Convertiremos armas en cuadernos y acuarelas
[we will trade weapons for notebooks and watercolors]
Por un mundo libre para las niñas [for a free world for the girls]
Trabajaremos con un solo corazón unido [We will work with one heart]

Por un mundo digno para los niños [for a world worthy of the children]

Cuando un pajarito cae del nido [when a bird falls from the nest]
Y no sabe aun volar...niño sin hogar [and doesn't know how to fly, homeless]

Cara sucia, pícara, risa limpia [dirty face, clean smile]
Descalcita y sin comer... ¿quien te va a querer?
[barefoot and hungry, who will want you?]

Ay! que suerte el que te halle en su camino
[Oh, what luck he who finds you in his path]
Puede darte amor y abrir su corazón
[he can give you love and open your heart]

Every time I listen to this song, I think about the world we are leaving to the children and wish that we really would trade our weapons for watercolors.

appliance failure

2008-03-30T16:05:00.002-06:00

This has not been a good month for our household's appliances.

Not long ago, our coffeemaker and ricemaker both ceased to function.

Then, our toilet started to run, leaving us with a $100 water bill this month.

And yesterday was the most dramatic occurence yet as our bathroom was practically destroyed by fire in the shower.

Yes, you read right. Fire in the shower. You see, we have one of those widowmaker things that wires electric current into our shower head to heat the water. So yesterday morning I stepped into the shower, turned the water setting from hot to cold, and BAM! The widowmaker was on fire. Sparks flew through the air--almost singing my hair. After screaming bloody murder (not literally), and jumping out of the shower, I realized the wires were still on fire and burning the entire showerhead. As smoke filled up the bathroom, I threw water on the fire (I don't actually know if one is supposed to throw water on electrical fires, but that's what I did).

Coughing the smoke out of my lungs, I called our landlord to ask him to send an electrician over to fix the system.

Meanwhile, a plumber was walking down the street, and I invited him in to fix our leaky toilet, which is about the only good piece of news from the day.

I say that because the electricians came at 11:30am, and spent 3 hours here undoing all our electrical wiring, cleaning the breaker box, reinstalling a new showerhead...all of this time me being forced to endure the worst heat of the day without any electricity to power even a fan. When they finally left, I was so relieved that I sent them away with a tip, since they weren't going to get paid by my landlord til Monday.

Then I opened the refrigerator. Yup, you guessed it. No electricity. I burst into tears. I just wanted to leave the house to meet my roommate at a local coffeeshop where we go to escape the Managua afternoon heat, but now I had another problem to solve. Thankfully, we had one extension cord in the house, which I used combined with a 2-3 prong connector thing to plug the fridge into the plug on the other side of the kitchen which thank God DID have electricity flowing.

When I finally got to Esperanza Coffee, I definitely felt I had earned my cold frappaccino. Which I drank with glee.

[post script: when me and Andrea came home last night, we realized that one of her outlets doesn't work either. ugh.]

to the isla and back again

2008-03-25T20:31:00.002-06:00

So if you've checked out the album link below, you know that I spent the last 4 days with my roommates in a gorgeous place called Corn Island off the southeast coast of Nicaragua. Corn Island is actually 2 islands, Big Corn and Little Corn. Big Corn is about an hour flight from Managua--so in the madrugada Thursday the 3 of us set off for the airport, boarded a 20 passenger Cessna plane (with propellers!), and landed on Big Corn at about 7am. We met up with another friend of ours who was already there, walked along the white sand shore of the caribe's crystal blue water for a bit, and then the adventure really began.

So we knew we'd be taking a boat across from Big Corn to Little Corn, but we had no idea it would be a panga--a panga, for the uninitiated is an open 50 passenger speed boat with no roof and very little in the way of protection from the water or the shock of cresting waves. Needless to say, the 30 minute trip felt more like a roller coaster than a peaceful boat ride. Jolted from our seats every 2 minutes unexpectedly, Andrea and I could not stop looking eat each other and laughing uncontrollably while trying to avoid a neck or back injury.

It was well worth the wild ride, however. Little Corn island is so small there are no cars on the island--everyone gets around on bikes or on foot. In fact, the whole perimeter of the island can be walked in about 3 hours (and we almost did it when we got lost on a foot path later that afternoon). We wandered a little ways around the island to our hotel, a beautiful eco-lodge called Casa Iguana with bush lined trails, brightly painted casitas, and a priceless view of the beach. And don't even get me started on the food, which was prepared by a master chef trained at a NY Culinary Institute. My mouth is watering just thinking about the coconut french toast, the curried shrimp, and king fish with basil walnut pesto (homemade from their very own garden!).

Anyway, we spent a couple hours sun-bathing, then after lunch commenced what turned out to be a massive 2 hour hike exploring 80% of the island. Some cold showers followed by a delicious dinner and full moon watching capped off the evening. Day 2 was much of the same, with the fun addition of a snorkeling adventure, in which I learned how to breath using a mask and skinned my knee on some gorgeous coral.

On Saturday afternoon we returned to Big Corn, only to be massively disappointed in having to take taxis everywhere...and also in our hotel--where we were later scared out of our wits when we heard glass bottles breaking and people shouting well into the night right outside our window. So, the first order of business Sunday morning was to find a better place to say, which after having accomplished, we set out to make the most of the day, having a delicious Easter breakfast at a local joint called Nautilus, and then snorkeling in the afternoon. We saw a bunch of colorful fish and the ruins of several really old boats which now have marine life growing all over them. I think it was a lot more fun the second time, because I actually knew what I was doing and wasn't just thinking about breathing every minute.

All in all, the entire time was delightfully refreshing and such a wonderful break from Managua life. One cultural note--the majority of the population is of African-indigenous descent and they speak English Creole (I barely understood 10% of what I heard) and then Spanish as a second language. And while the islands are covered with palm trees and coconuts, the poverty was nonetheless still starkly present, reminding me that while I might be in a tropical paradise, life for some of these Nicaraguans is just as hard as it is for the people I know on the Pacific side.

Corn Island Photos

2008-03-24T20:30:00.004-06:00

I'm too tired right now to give a narrative, but have some pics. :-)

3-word summary: It was awesome.

10-word summary: Tropical island. Palm trees. Hammocks. White sand. Snorkeling. Fresh seafood.

More details tomorrow. Buenas noches.

going away for a bit

2008-03-19T19:41:00.002-06:00

For those 3 or 4 of you who will check this blog in the next few days, I am headed to Nicaragua's east coast (Corn Island, to be exact) to celebrate the Easter holiday with my roommates. Back online Monday with photos and lots of good stories (I hope).

Celestial spirit that doth roll

The heart's sepulchral stone away,

Be this our resurrection day,

The singing Easter of the soul -O gentle Master of the Wise,

Teach us to say: "I will arise."

~Richard Le Gallienne

in the midst of drought

2008-03-14T09:18:00.004-06:00

It would be an understatement to say that it’s gotten increasingly dry and dusty ‘round these parts. March and April are by far the hottest months of the year in Nicaragua, and this year is no exception. Everywhere I look the fields are brown, the dry earth increasingly charred by fire, and yet the trees, well, the trees are inexplicably green (albeit not the vibrant green of winter).

It’s a phenomenon that has made me stop and reflect in the last several days. How in the world can these trees still bloom amidst the drought in which we are living? What is the secret to their continued life?

From somewhere in the back of my mental archives, where scientific knowledge not used since high school is stored, the answer came.

It’s all about the roots!

Despite all evidence to the contrary, moisture can still be found in this land after 3 months of drought, moisture stored well below the surface of the earth, moisture only accessible to the most complex and persistent root systems developed through years of experience with this 3 month period of survival. All energy is conserved, all blooming and growth ceases, to ensure that the moisture stored in the heart of the tree’s roots is sufficient to outlast the dry season. And then when the rains of May come, we see the fruit of all of this careful planning—a burst of new eye-popping green everywhere you turn.

For various reasons, shared and unshared, this has been a very dry season for me personally. The condition of my heart has mirrored the color of the earth on which I walk each day. And as I have cried and thought and prayed, I have come to the conclusion that I must become like one of these trees that I admire so much.

I must dig deeper. I must fight harder.

I must search for the living water somewhere deep within the well of my soul that is still there, despite all evidence to the contrary.

I must not give up. Oh, please, may I not give up!

it's osh kosh b'gosh!

2008-03-07T16:40:00.011-06:00

Father Neil with patients in El Ojoche...they were certainly patient!

Our group and the local community health committe, plus some kids who hung around all day with us!

The line in La Carreta--people sought what little shade there was in the dry dusty afternoon

Nurse practicioner Kristen always had a smile for the kids...

Our makeshift doctor's offices in San Miguelito--specially made for our clinic!

Yes, this week we hosted a team from San Rafael's Catholic Church from none other than Osh Kosh, Wisconsin. I spent the majority of the week with this delightful group of folks, helping with translation for the medical part of the team--who did 3 full days of clinics in 3 different communities near Nicaragua's northwest border with Honduras--El Ojoche, San Miguelito, and La Carreta--while the other part of the team worked alongside the families of Ojoche on their new patio gardens, and learning a lot about this beautiful community (which is also famous for its handmade pottery). It was an exhausting week, one that left me full of joy and purpose...even though I did manage to contract a nasty 24 hour stomach virus at the end. These are just a few of the many sights of our week together...

american guilt and redemptive friendship

2008-02-20T19:40:00.004-06:00

I know. My North American guilt is a product of the constant suffering I see Nicaraguans experiencing and doesn't actually change anything, nor is it really healthy.

But you see, my guilt comes from a growing awareness that Nicaragua's potential as a nation has been continually stifled, first by the Spaniards during the Colonial Period (which ended in 1820) and then by the entire course of US foreign policy since then.

A visiting professor remarked last week that of all the countries in Latin America, Nicaragua is the one one most intricately linked with the disasterous policies of the US government. From William Walker to the US-backed 30 years Somoza dictatorship to the funding for the Contras in the 1980s, there is just no end to the presumptous, imperialistic, schoolyard bullying that Nicaragua has experienced at the hands of my country's leaders. So should I feel some guilt about that history? Yes, I think so. The same way I feel guilt over the inhumanity of slavery, the forced relocation of Native Americans, and countless other wrongs perpetuated by my government and/or certain people within my country.

Perhaps the guilt in itself accomplishes nothing, except to provide me with a good dose of humility when I start to think I have the least idea what Nicaraguans should do to solve one of their problems. Who am I to think I have any right at all to speak into this nation's reality? I have to remind myself regularly that the most important voices calling for change and development in this country are the Nicaraguans themselves. And then I ask myself, so then what exactly am I doing here?

Today, in a meeting with a group of leaders in Chinandega, I was retelling the story of a young Nicaraguan woman who challenged me with that very question--in slightly different words. And how her question left me speechless and thinking. But that at this moment, I had just one answer.

"I was brought here to be a friend to the Nicaraguan people."

Friendship seems like a small thing, too small to make any difference at all in a country burdened by decades of war, natural disasters, and corrupt leaders. But today it took on new significance as person after person gave me their warmest greetings--a smile, a kiss, a hug. And as I thought about my two new invitations to visit the homes of 2 newer Nica friends ("not to take pictures or video or to do interviews, but to RELAX", Arlene said pointedly), I began to remember something very important, something I had forgotten in the midst of a very emotionally challenging last couple of weeks.

Friendship is redemptive. John 15:13

monkey business, and other photos

2008-02-08T11:33:00.001-06:00

The view from the top of Volcano Mombacho--with Crater Lake Apoyo in the distance

Coffee beans drying in the southwest Nicaraguan sun

One of 4 monkeys who live on one of the isletas off the coast of Granada--our big question was how did they get there? Swimming? ;-)

if you live in one of these 24 states...

2008-02-04T18:47:00.000-06:00

[Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas, California, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Georgia, Idaho, Illinois, Kansas, Massachusetts, Minnesota, Missouri, Montana, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Dakota, Oklahoma, W. Virginia, Tennessee, Utah]

On the eve of Super Tuesday, I feel it's especially important to call attention to the primaries and caucuses occurring all over the United States tomorrow. If you are registered to vote in any of these states, and the primary/caucus rules permit you to vote, please do so. The strength of our democracy depends on citizen participation.

Some of my readers know my personal candidate preference (and you can read about him here), but I will not use this space to make a political argument. As your fellow citizen, I just ask you to educate yourself about the candidates and the issues, decide what matters most to you, and vote.

Thank you.

popusas, anyone?

2008-01-29T12:32:00.000-06:00

This weekend my roommates and I had the pleasure of "hosting" our friends and coworkers Leonor and Freddy (and their adorable daughter Sarai) for dinner. I put hosting in quotes because while we opened our home, Leonor was the one who taught us how to make the delicious, traditional Salvadorian dish, the popusa. Let's just say it was quite the learning process and Leonor showed much patience with us! The corn flour, cheese, and bean concoctions were complemented by a delicious tomato and onion salsa, and cabbage/onion/carrot/jalapeno salad. Yummy!

the great need of this hour

2008-01-21T15:04:00.000-06:00

In honor of Dr. King, I want to share with you all a portion of a speech made by Barack Obama yesterday in Atlanta marking the occasion.

"Before Memphis and the mountaintop; before the bridge in Selma and the march on Washington; before Birmingham and the beatings; the fire hoses and the loss of those four little girls; before there was King the icon and his magnificent dream, there was King the young preacher and a people who found themselves suffering under the yoke of oppression.

And on the eve of the bus boycotts in Montgomery, at a time when many were still doubtful about the possibilities of change, a time when those in the black community mistrusted themselves, and at times mistrusted each other, King inspired with words not of anger, but of an urgency that still speaks to us today: "Unity is the great need of the hour" is what King said. Unity is how we shall overcome.

What Dr. King understood is that if just one person chose to walk instead of ride the bus, those walls of oppression would not be moved. But maybe if a few more walked, the foundation might start to shake. If a few more women were willing to do what Rosa Parks had done, maybe the cracks would start to show. If teenagers took freedom rides from North to South, maybe a few bricks would come loose. Maybe if white folks marched because they had come to understand that their freedom too was at stake in the impending battle, the wall would begin to sway. And if enough Americans were awakened to the injustice; if they joined together, North and South, rich and poor, Christian and Jew, then perhaps that wall would come tumbling down, and justice would flow like water, and righteousness like a mighty stream.

Unity is the great need of the hour -- the great need of this hour. Not because it sounds pleasant or because it makes us feel good, but because it's the only way we can overcome the essential deficit that exists in this country. I'm not talking about a budget deficit. I'm not talking about a trade deficit. I'm not talking about a deficit of good ideas or new plans. I'm talking about a moral deficit. I'm talking about an empathy deficit. I'm taking about an inability to recognize ourselves in one another; to understand that we are our brother's keeper; we are our sister's keeper; that, in the words of Dr. King, we are all tied together in a single garment of destiny.

We have an empathy deficit when we're still sending our children down corridors of shame -- schools in the forgotten corners of America where the color of your skin still affects the content of your education. We have a deficit when CEOs are making more in ten minutes than some workers make in ten months; when families lose their homes so that lenders make a profit; when mothers can't afford a doctor when their children get sick. We have a deficit in this country when there is Scooter Libby justice for some and Jena justice for others; when our children see nooses hanging from a schoolyard tree today, in the present, in the twenty-first century. We have a deficit when homeless veterans sleep on the streets of our cities; when innocents are slaughtered in the deserts of Darfur; when young Americans serve tour after tour of duty in a war that should've never been authorized and never been waged.

And we have a deficit when it takes a breach in our levees to reveal a breach in our compassion; when it takes a terrible storm to reveal the hungry that God calls on us to feed; the sick He calls on us to care for; the least of these He commands that we treat as our own.

So we have a deficit to close. We have walls -- barriers to justice and equality -- that must come down. And to do this, we know that unity is the great need of this hour.

So let us say that on this day of all days, each of us carries with us the task of changing our hearts and minds. The division, the stereotypes, the scape-goating, the ease with which we blame our plight on others -- all of this distracts us from the common challenges we face -- war and poverty; injustice and inequality. We can no longer afford to build ourselves up by tearing someone else down. We can no longer afford to traffic in lies or fear or hate. It is the poison that we must purge from our politics; the wall that we must tear down before the hour grows too late.

Because if Dr. King could love his jailor; if he could call on the faithful who once sat where you do to forgive those who set dogs and fire hoses upon them, then surely we can look past what divides us in our time, and bind up our wounds, and erase the empathy deficit that exists in our hearts."

Amen.

debunking misconceptions...

2008-01-18T21:27:00.000-06:00

I feel like I should have written a post like this shortly after my arrival, but better late than never, right? The truth is, I knew very little about Central America as a whole before I came here, never mind Nicaragua in particular. Unfortunately, even in Texas my knowledge of what was going on "south of the border" was pretty much limited to Mexico. So I can understand that people have a lot of ideas (some outdated, and some just wrong) about Nicaragua...which I want to hopefully correct through identifying the following misconceptions (these all come from real experience talking to North Americans!) and providing some up-to-date information.

Misconception #1:Nicaragua is still an unsafe place to visit.
No, actually, Nicaragua is the safest country to visit in Central America. Since the end of the Contra war in 1990, the country has witnessed 3 fairly held democratic elections and peaceful transfers of power. The incidence of gangs and violent crime is also much lower here than Guatemala or Honduras...and other than the hurricanes and earthquakes that are a risk on any geological faultline or tropical zone, the potential harm to visitors is practically non-existent.

Misconception #2: Modern conveniences are unavailable.
In fact, the majority of the population owns a cell phone (though whether someone has minutes depends on how close to payday it is), internet cafes are sprouting up on every corner (50 cents an hour), cable companies offer access to US channels, and even very poor families have radios and often televisions. Local grocery stores sell a variety of US brands of everything from juice to tuna fish to personal hygiene products. There are air conditioned movie theaters and ritzy malls. About the only thing you'll have trouble with is directions, as there are very few street names, and many dirt roads, and everyone gets around on the basis of landmarks.

Misconception #3: There is no good medical care if I get sick.
There are lots of doctors who offer consults for $2 out of their homes for general care, and at least 3 extremely reputable hospitals in Managua that can handle anything from your garden variety parasites to childbirth and complex surgeries. In addition, while medicine sales are not regulated, local pharmacies carry a wide variety of commonly used drugs (I buy Alegra-D regularly over the counter here). There are also lots of good dentists (including my neighbor).

Misconception #4: If I get a mosquito bite, I am going to get dengue or malaria.
The risk of contracting these diseases here is certainly real, but it is very uncommon in urban areas, and during the dry season (Jan-May), I don't even wear bugspray.

Misconception #5: All people ever eat is rice and beans.
I hope I've sufficiently put this to rest elsewhere in this blog. Most people do still use open flame (wood burning "stoves") or gas for cooking, not electricity, because of how expensive it is, and how unreliable it has been.

Misconception #6: There is no clean water.
Managua water is not the best, so we buy bottled water to drink, but it is still perfectly safe for me to brush my teeth and use tap water for cooking. In some parts of the country, like Leon and Carazo, the water can be consumed straight out of the tap. The country is blessed with a number of clean water sources--but infrastructural issues prevent it from being delivered as effectively as it could be.

Even though Nicaragua continues to struggle with poverty, disease and corruption, there is no denying that the 21st century and all of the trappings of globalization have arrived. But that's a whole other post.

when words are not enough

2008-01-16T21:53:00.000-06:00

It's the last thing you expect to hear from a writer, but after more than 18 months in Nicaragua, I am beginning to feel that my words--carefully (and sometimes carelessly) constructed characterizations of my life in this country--are just not enough. Nor are the thousands of photos I have taken, as brilliant, colorful, or interesting they might be.

Sure, I could write more about the regular crazy bus adventures I have which involve elbowing strangers, holding on for dear life when the driver makes an unexpected stop, smelling toxic fumes, and listening to the melodious (and sometimes cacaphonous) voices which clamor for my attention...or the amazing Nicaraguans I work with who are passionate about the transformation of their country (and also about having fun--lunchtime at the office is always a delightful combination of jokes I don't understand, ping pong, and intercultural sharing)...or the daily political drama that goes on between the Sandinistas, the Liberals, and the press--the different arguments over power, how to resolve the problems of poverty, corruption, and disease...or the shifting climate and environmental issues faced by this beautiful and richly blessed land of diverse fruits, plentiful forests, and rivers, due to global warming and pollution.

But the truth is, I don't want to just use words and one-dimensional photos anymore. I want you, dear reader, fall in love with this country for yourself. Walk its dusty streets, climb its green, green hills, kayak its lakes and rivers, look into the eyes of its persevering people, enjoy their music of marimbo and guitarra, listen to their poetic rhythms of speech, examine their art in murals and pottery.

Discover the natural beauty, historical tragedy, and redemptive qualities of this land of Nicarao, baho, and cacao.

Aay, Nicaragua, Nicaraguita. Tan linda, pero tan desconocida. Maybe one day you will understand. If you come. If you see for yourself.

un poema

2008-01-09T15:13:00.000-06:00

My long-time cherished friend Dawn challenged me to create a poem using the title of my previous post. I admit, it was difficult, as poetry and jokes are probably the two hardest things to master in a second language. But, here is my first valiant attempt. Favor perdonarme si no sea tan bello.

He aquí donde se encuentra alimentos [behold, here one finds food]
que agradan la nariz, la boca y los ojos [that please the nose, mouth, and eyes]

Un simple fuego de leña hace [a simple wood burning fire makes]
de un pollo, la poesía asada [from chicken, grilled poetry]
del café y azúcar, la fuerza nueva [from coffee and sugar, new strength]
de la masa, aceite y agua, la pan divina [from corn, oil, and water, divine bread]

Un cuchillo en la mano hace [a knife in the hand makes]
de las pinas, cálalas, y naranjas [from pineapple, calala, and oranges]
una cascada de brisas exquisitas [a waterfall of esquisite showers]
de la yucca, zanahoria, y hierba [from yucca, carrots, and herbs]
una sabrosa sopa alentadora [a delicious, encouraging soup]

En este pueblo los ingredientes más sencillos [in this place the simplest ingredients]
con un poco de amor [with a little love]
generan milagros culinarios, [generate culinary miracles]
y la imaginacion de la gente [and the imagination of the people]
crea sabores y olores [creates unforgettable flavors and aromas]
inolvidables que refrescan el alma y serenan la mente [which refresh the soul and calm the mind]

Written with much love for the people, food, and cultura of Nicaragua!

sabores y olores

2008-01-07T19:27:00.000-06:00

Since I'm unable to comment on the political madness occurring daily in this country in this forum, I'd like to tell you something about the daily flavors (sabores) and smells (olores) that make my mouth water and/or my nose wrinkle. I'll leave you to decide which is which.

I like lists, so here we go (in no particular odor).

1. Chicken roasting on outdoor grills being sold by neighborhood fritangas in the evening.

2. Fumes from bus exhaust pipes.

3. Greasy gallo pinto (the quintessential Nica dish consisting of rice and beans and varying quantities of oil).

4. The cold milky-chocolate beverage known as cacao.

5. Horse doo-doo on the road to work.

6. The delicate fragrance of bright orange and purple flowers hanging over cement walls.

7. The distinct onion-based scent of women who sell quesillos (cheese, cream, and grilled onions inside a warm tortilla).

8. Sweet, freshly baked tortas.

9. Crunchy fried banana strips with cabbage/tomato/lime juice salad.

10. Slightly decaying dog flesh. (Okay, so that's not daily, but we HAVE crossed paths with 2 dead dogs on the way to work in the last few months. And, well, the odor is something else.)

this year's Love

2008-01-04T19:42:00.000-06:00

here's my belated online confession (intimate friends, i know this is old news): i fell in love this year (well, 2007). in the span of about 6 weeks this summer, i became very serious with a guy that i thought i might one day marry. (i know, i know. i am a naive romantic.)

then he left the country to continue his advanced studies in medicine--a place so far away and so expensive to call that all that remained was the occasional 5 minute phone conversation or 3 line email. needless to say, this placed a huge strain on what had been an intense emotional relationship. and thanks to the limitations of my second language, i may have inadvertantly completely ended it 2 weeks ago expressing my frustrations with his lack of communication.

i don't actually know how all of this will turn out, but it connects with the new year in this way: in an evening porch conversation with some nica sisters on january 1st, one of them asked about my goals for 2008. and the first thing that came to my mind was a verse in the book of revelation where it says, "you have forgotten your first love". and so i shared openly with them that indeed, this past year marked a sharp decline in the intimacy i sought/felt/desired for the Living God--and that i looked to many different substitutes--perhaps even this man i fell head over heels for--to fill the resulting void.

so, in 2008 i want to rediscover that love, that passion i once felt to know Christ before all things. the trouble is, i fear i have fallen so far that i scarcely know where to begin...but i know i need my Savior in these coming days, in this coming year as much or more than ever.

and i can only pray for the strength to WANT to want to seek His face again.