“What’s Going On Down There?” // THE BASICS

18. jan. 07

“What’s Going On Down There?” is the title of a book that parents can purchase to answer some difficult questions of their pre-teenager. I’m using the title to answer some basic questions which have been difficult for me to answer so far… like what exactly is going on “down here” in Nicaragua? But as my community mate James likes to remind me, if the world is a sphere, nothing is really ever really up or down – except of course our moods! This will probably get a bit long… I’m just throwin’ it all out there for now…

So I am living in Managua, Nicaragua. My address is describe in how many streets I am away from the rotundo, using “al lago” (to the lake) “al sul” (to the south) “arriba” and “abajo” (up and down.. like the sun)… why, Bono? BECAUSE THE STREETS HAVE NO NAMES. Yup, one of U2’s greatest songs is about Managua (Thanks Liz Nuzz). Nicaragua is the second poorest country in the entire Western Hemisphere (second to Haiti), and this is clear (not because there are no street signs). Despite the poverty it is a beautiful country. I love walking to the bus stop and seeing the volcanoes in the distance (15 total in the country and I’ve already been to two). The lakes are powerful and the lagoons (from the volcanic craters) are peaceful. The streets are filled with people and political propaganda that remain from the Presidential elections this past November (more on that later). It’s hot… 90s…and this is the “winter season.” …so the cold showers are a blessing!

In Managua, I live in a barrio* (neighborhood) called “La Luz” (the light). I guess it could be considered Nicaragua “middle” class, because it is not the most fachenta (fancy, high class) area, but it’s far from the city dump. It’s called La Luz because every so often we lose power (and water) at night. Most of the streets in the barrio are paved, but ours is more of a dirt road. I love seeing the neighbors wake up in the morning and “water the street”… they water the dirt/sand so that it minimizes the amount of dust that is blown into their houses (there is A LOT of dust, but it’s funny to watch… why it’s funny, I don’t know). In the first week that I was here, my community mates and I spent a week living with different families in the barrio. This was a fabulous way to get to know our Nicaraguan neighbors and one family especially.
(*my Spanglish has taken over my English so I’ll translate where I can)

I deeply enjoy the house I live in: it is lime green on the outside! We have more than enough in terms of “things we need” but it is humble in comparison to how I would be living in the states. For example, washing clothes by hand is therapeutic. I enjoy it. And I think I’m gaining some sweet back muscles. More so, I feel blessed knowing I do not have to wake up at 4am like my co-workers to catch the water for the day.

Who is “we”? “We” is my community: Matt, Adriana, James, Josh, Mary, and Margie. We are the Jesuit Volunteers for 2007 (a Nicaraguan school year). Matt and Adriana have been here, living in this house and working at their same sites for one year (2006) with four other volunteers who left in December. They have now taken us four new kids (James, Josh, Mary and myself) under their wings and have been training us for survival. A little on each, oldest to youngest…
- Matt (Omaha, NE) is tall, upfront, advising, knowledgeable, loves college basketball, hiking, and forming a Midwest alliance in the house.
- Josh (Sioux Falls, SD) shares everything he has, from his honest opinions to the bread he makes, his passion for music theory, and the hot water in the AM
- Adriana (San Diego, CA) is soft and sweet, Mexican-American (a walking Spanish-Eng dictionary for me!), charming, considerate, loves talking about boys.
- James (New Haven, MI), theology major in school and life. Animated and alegre (happy)! We practice our Jesuit educations by conversing endlessly on grand topics
- Mary (Marietta, GE), southern beauty in all realms. Independent but loves friends and Patty Griffin. Adventurous. Had American Dolls as a girl.
- Margie/Mags (Port Wash, NY). Things that they would maybe write about me: I fall a lot and run into things often. I am easily amused. And if there is chocolate in the fridge, it will not last long. I love and miss my family more than anything.
The house we live in has been passed down from the JVs for 4 years now, and before that, they JVs lived down the block. We are known by the neighbors and kids, who frequently visit us because they have to “use the bathroom” (really because we have “cool stuff” in there). Our neighbors take care of us. We share kitchen stuff and they will sometimes share their outrageous Nicaraguan food with us (and laugh when they smell our burning beans). Our next door neighbors are always sitting outside on their plastic chairs chatting together and it reminds me very much of home. There is a little boy next door named Hassan (3 years old) who loves running up and down outside out house and trying to scare us. He’s adoooorrable.

Because of the vacations of Christmas and New Years, I just started work this week in a barrio (neighborhood) called El Recreo. [Irony of beginning work, first day, on what is Martin Luther King Day (observed) in the US… I am faithful that Dr. King would have supported my working in this way to “observe” and celebrate his life]. In El Recreo there is a social project called “Proyecto Generando Vida” which has been established since 1990. It is a sort of Catholic social outreach project that offers programs to adults and children in the barrio, run cooperatively by both people who live in the barrio and a group of Sisters of Zion. El Recreo is very poor in comparison to where I live and it shocks me to go there each day. No roads are paved, children walk around with no shoes and sometimes no clothes, stray dogs are everywhere, drunk men crowed the corners at 8am (well, all day. But they are up and drunk in the AM), the list goes on.

BUT Proyecto Generando Vida is a hopeful service that is offered to the El Recreans. In the project there is a comedor, where children can come or lunch who would have otherwise not had lunch, and the volunteers will give little classes to educate while they eat; there is a school supplement program where kids who want extra schooling can attend classes; there is a bank where over 100 woman participate in micro-lending and financing; a computer lab, pharmacy, a library, a health sector, and a gym. My co-workers are friendly and fun and I look forward to the day when I can converse with them as myself, uninhibited by my imperfect and improving Spanish. I knew I’d like working there when on Monday we began with a prayer, a recap (good/bad, high/low) of vacations, and hugged each other…

This week we did a bunch of prep-work as matriculation for the school year starts on Monday. Magical memories came back to me of when I would walk from Grandmom’s to St. Peter’s in the summer to help the teachers set up their classrooms. Cleaning, painting, disaster relief like that. Making propaganda to inform the barrio of the programs. Fabulous moment: going door to door one afternoon with the propaganda and inviting people to come sign up on Monday. In light of my UGBC experiences, I never thought I’d have to hand out quarter sheets and “campaign” in Nicaragua, in Spanish. Pretty hilarious. As for a more permanent role in the project, I’m still trying to figure that out. There was a gang prevention program here that did not work the first time and they hoped maybe I would fill that role. But as things are always changing here in Nicaragua, it now sounds like they are looking for a fitness/nutrition program. (Flexibility and patience here is key for me) There’s a good chance I’ll be doing Jane Fonda and Jazzercise with Nicaraguan women….Definitely something to look forward to.

With Mary and Matt (who also work in El Recreo), I take the public bus each day to and from work. This experience is a far cry from the Newton or Comm Ave bus, even on Saturday nights. The buses are the big yellow school bus kind, except they are all painted different colors and plastered with all kinds of random stickers. I especially love the giant Spiderman eyes on the front windshield of some of them. I am most careful of my surroundings on the buses, and I should be. i.e. Women here always keep money in their bras so that they are less likely to get pick-pocketed. There does not seem to be any sort of “safety standards” or “maximum capacity” rules here. Just about everyday I’m on a bus in which there are 2 people to a seat, and four people in the aisle, standing side by side in each row. We hold on to the bars on the ceiling so we don’t go flying, but even when the bus stops short, one doesn’t go very far because there is no where to go. Getting off the bus is an experience in and of itself… climbing through the jungle of people to get to the back of the bus, banging on the wall to make sure the driver stops, and then jumping out the door as quickly as possible to avoid getting stuck on the bus or in the door. It is not always like this. I’d say half of the time. The other half is when I can see the floor of the aisle and people walk up and down it: selling water or pretty much anything; evangelical preachers; blind men singing and entertaining, you name it. Those are the times when I love looking out the window, with wonder an awe, that I am living in Nicaragua.


For the past month and a half, I have been trying to become “accustomed” to Nicaragua. I believe this will never actually happen. I’ll never know what it’s really like to be Nicaraguan… I can never forget Gino’s Pizza, Let There Be Bagels, or the “adarondackarelli” chairs outside our comfy Nuzzolese home. And I believe that the moment I feel “accustomed,” I’m actually further from being accustomed than I already was. There is a great deal of shock value to being here. I’ve “adjusted” to some of the shock, but I always catch myself staring at something I find totally outrageous and then pinching myself. For example, the daily smell of burning trash. The horse and “carriages” (unlike Central Park) that drive in the street. The women carrying tortillas in baskets on their heads. The shoe-less 3 year olds hanging out on the side of the major boulevard. Feeling like I live in the North Shore Animal Shelter because of all of the dogs. And so on… However, I am starting to sleep better at night, wear pants during the day, and to walk around with more comfort than fear. My spirit is strong with faith and hope – I believe for that I owe thanks to you back home for praying for me. I feel totally blessed to have the opportunity to be here, to learn and grow in ways I am hardly aware of. It is a gift that I am thrilled to share.