So I walk into the comedor (kitchen) of the Project this Wednesday to see if I can help Rosario out with preparing the meals that about 100 malnourished children will consume. “Of course you can help!” Wonderful! So I help her serve rice and a vegetable brew into the little bowls. As the professional and chef, she soon realizes that I am serving either too much or too little in each bowl and promotes my job to placing the spoon in each bowl. I’m okay with this special job since I remember I am here to “be with” people and not necessarily move mountains. She arranges the bowls with such speed, precision, and love, while I make sure the spoon is strategically placed under the weight of the rice so they don’t fall upon serving. As I finish up, I notice her looking for something on the floor. What are you looking for Rosario? “Don´t worry about it, Margarita, its just a little part of my earring.” Bummer, right!? She loves those pink-ball dangly earrings. Naturally I start to help her and she resists as if she doesn’t really care. “No, don’t worry about it, Margarita, it’s SO small and I have other earrings.” But I help her anyway. I ask to see the other earring to know what part we are looking for. YUP, it’s small… a thin, silver pin that actually goes inside the clasp. I figure, it’s silver and shiny, we should be able to find it on this maroon, sorta-ceramic-tiled floor. But Rosario pretends to stop looking, tells me over and over to not worry about it, and continues the work in the kitchen. I try to tell her, “Don’t lose hope! Come, we can find it!” She starts sweeping, just to clean up the floor, and I know she is still looking for it, but I try to step back, hoping that if I don’t look like I am worrying about it, she won’t feel as bad. And as she is sweeping, she finds, IN THE CRACK of the floor. Stuck deep between two of the tiles, where rice and dirt were accompanying this millimeter-size silver pin. Woo hoo! Ohh she´s psyched! “These are my favorite earrings, and maybe they can fix them in the market!” Her “small victory” filled my heart with faith and hope, as she is a totally humble, simply, joyful woman, always a pleasure to spend time and converse with, and yet a part of the deep struggle of Nicaraguan women. In this moment I was reminded of the word “solidarity” – a quite perplexing word and concept to develop and hold dear, but an act so simple and crucial: accompanying another with faith and hope in the search and rescue of something that seems lost.
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August 14, the day in Nicaragua of the Purísima Chiquita… the “junior” of the December 7 celebration of the Immaculate Conception of Mary.* The prelude, the pre-game, that is only celebrate in the city of León…and at my bank team meeting this week...
Grety, my dear co-worker and companion, comes dancing into work all dressed up. “Estámos de Fiesta!” She exclaims. We´re having a party! For Mary, of course. She commands Silvio, “Get out the Vírgin!” meaning, to take out the 2´ statue of Mary so we can arrange an altar. “Margarita, set up the altar!” OH BOY… I think to myself. These devotions to Mary are perhaps the most serious and reverent practices of Catholic Nicaraguans and Grety is quite the commandante when it comes to Mary and the Catholic faith, so I start sweating at the sound of this task. Have you ever seen an altar to Mary? In Latin America? I find Silvio´s coffee table ready as Grety has already set in front of some plants in the garden. I wipe it down with a cloth and set a white lace tablecloth as a bedding to put the Virgin on. Silvio, also totally devout to Mary, literally asks me three times if I have wiped the table down. “Yes, Silvio.” I’m laughing to myself remembering that this is not a common practice “where I am from” and that arranging an ornate altar to Mary isn’t second-nature to me. “Ni importa, Margarita”, Grety tells me… Just make sure it’s beautiful for Mary. So maybe not second-nature, but this is my second-year as a JV in Nicaragua… 2 occasions of Purísima experience under my belt, and I have learned a thing or two about how to arrange an altar to Mary:
- The table must be wiped down well. The space must be clean and pure.
- The table must be covered with a beautiful cloth, lace preferred, that is arranged creatively (i.e.: not logically placed folded square to fit the shape of the table)
- The Virgin must be secure on the table. The statue should not be rocking, unbalanced even the slightest bit, for risk of Her falling.
- Decorate with any leaves, flowers (real or fake), or random cut-out images of happy things that you can find.
I too, loving and adoring of Mary, do my best to make an altar and it appears to be acceptable to Grety and Silvio. Phew! I am calm and pleased as we start the prayers and songs and celebration. During the prayer I admired the altar and statue of Mary and I rejoiced giving thanks and praise to Mary and God for the blessing of being a part of such devotion to Mary. Grety made chicha, the special corn drink, typical of the Purísima, to share with us after the prayers and even made the little baskets of candy and cookies that are given out at the December Purísima. It was so special to be a part of Grety´s passion and effort to celebrate Mary in this way. Grety and Silvio have taught me so much of faith, and specifically adoration to Mary. My love of and prayer to Mary has grown dramatically here, and I am sure is it because of their influence. And later, telling Grety that I would write this story on the blog, she affirmed me, “But yes you COULD make an altar! And did you see how beautiful it turned out!?”
*The Purísima is dedicated to the December 8 Feast of the Immaculate Conception of Mary. It is perhaps comparable in size and grandeur to Christmas in the United States: rooted in the Catholic tradition though it extends to celebration for all in Nicaragua. More on that in December…
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One of my dear friends from BC, Mike, just left from a week long visit. A blast, from start to finish! Energizing, Rejuvenating, Life-giving, and Laugh-giving. We were out and about the whole week, showing him all kinds of beauty I have experienced here in Nicaragua. From days at my worksite and the “monuments” of Managua to hikes in middle of nowhere/everywhere the mountains, farm, Laguna, and neighbors´ houses, he successfully learned the chorus to “Nicaragua, Nicaragúita,” Nicaragua´s unofficially anthem and, one could certainly argue, the beat of her heart.
We felt much of the pulse the night of August 9, the eve of the celebration of Santo Domingo (Saint Dominic, Patron Saint of Managua). The saint (an action figure of St. Dom) is kept in a church outside of Managua and brought through the capital each year in August to celebrate and worship. So the party on the 9th is somewhat of a “vigil” held right outside our block, on the eve of the day when Dom will pass on His way out of the city, back to the church. I was thrilled that Mike would be here for this occasion to experience such a cultural event. That night he not only tried the country’s famous rum, Flor de Caña, and heard the sharp noise of the hear-only fireworks, but also saw the many women out on the street selling everything from gum, to cigarettes, cotton candy, candy apples, enchiladas, tacos, grilled meat and chicken, etc. He saw the main attraction of the “Palo Lucido”… the telephone pole greased in animal fat that Nicaraguan men, young boys, and brave JVs try to climb every year for the prizes at the top. He heard the popular music and saw some “night dancing” (the drunk-man, uninhibited dance). Mike even danced himself… swing-danced with yours-truly in the middle of the street, to the great amusement of a circle of starry-eyes fans (Swing dance by “foreigners,” as the DJ called us, is not typical of Nica or this feast day, but thoroughly enjoyed). With a far-from-celebratory feel, he saw the young children of working mothers trying to sleep in the grass by their stands (one boy in a wheel-barrel!) amidst the raucous of the event. Shirtless men passed-out drunk, totally unconscious of their surroundings. A large tattoo-ed man screaming brutally at a young woman, before he hit her powerfully across the face. And then the decorated float that passed around 11 to go pick up the Saint from another church. Upon returning to the house that night, I felt exhausted and sad at the obviously ugly sights of the night. Maybe I wasn’t thrilled that Mike was able to see all that, but still thankful – for it displayed a part of the reality of Nicaragua.
thanks for reading, and loving, and praying! more soon! xoxo
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