Nica News

For our community newsletter, "NicaNews," I have written the following up from January and February:

February NicaNews

What time do you get up today?

10 to 6…. Why?
Curiosity
What time did you wake up this morning?
2 in the morning
Really Silvio? For the water?
Yes
With everyone else in the barrio, right?
Yes. It´s horrible. The poor woman, who lives on that other street, what’s her name? the woman that owes us all that money?
Concepción
Yeah, you know… I´ve seen her going up to the main street to collect the water in buckets because it never comes to her house.

***

One day at lunch this week, we gathered around the table and Ana Maria (the Provincial of the Sisters of Sion from Costa Rica), started to say Grace. She mentioned how one day last week I was talking about how difficult the visits to the women in the banks have been. And she prayed [to the best of my memory]… “There is much pain in this neighborhood. Let us remember today how much pain there is in this neighborhood; how much the people suffer, from all the sicknesses, the debts, the spouses; the poverty; so painful.” I don’t remember how she ended the grace (though I know that was the most important part…about how God saves all); my mind went off wandering about how true her first statement was. There is much pain in this neighborhood. There IS SO much pain. I have felt this pain recently — pain from hearing about so much pain! And this has characterized much of my January days.

More Feb NicaNews

Two months into new community! The craziness of Christmas time is fading away, and we are starting to develop a sense of “normalcy” in our home. In Celebration of the upcoming “Día de Amistad y Amor,” I wish to share with you my love of my community mates…

People always ask us if any of us are dating. We usually giggle, joke, and smile, as we attempt to explain the “no-dating” concepts of JVI that are inferred in the handbook. Is it a chastity clause? Serious discernment is HIGHLY encouraged if community mates are considering dating. Though many former JVs of Nicaragua have dated each other! JVs of other communities have dated and could potentially be dating right now. Some of our last “dates” were well over a year ago, and JVI Nicaragua has successfully survived over a year without anyone dating each other! In this month of Valentines, I wish to confess to you, friends and family, that I am physically, emotionally, and spiritually attracted to my community mates*. Each of them in their own way… one way or another, and while the extent of the feelings may vary by person, by day and sometimes by the hour, I would date any one of them. I don’t, because it is clear that we are already committed to each other as community mates. But they would surely be super life-companions! And “without hope or agenda” of dating any of them now or in some distant future, I confess that I very deeply love each of them.

I think it was unavoidable that I fell in love with them, constantly being drawn to them… we wake up together, we pray together, we eat together, we work together, we market-shop together, we clean together, we sit in rocking chairs together, we play together, we play with the kids together, we visit neighbors together, we travel together, we cry together, we laugh together, we debrief together, we watch movies together, we save/spend money together, we read together, walk together, run together, brush our teeth together, sing together, struggle together, dream together and we go to bed together… though there’s a wall or two that separates us. And this isn’t all. And this somehow works out! And this channels my faith! And causes me immense growth! And brings me perfect joy! This living-together-ness/ fake-dating/ imaginary-marriage/ community grasps why heart in a way that invites me closer to God, everyday. Why wouldn’t I want to date any one of them?

I look forward to seeing them in the morning… before I go to sleep and when I wake up. I used to not be able to sleep at night because I was so excited about the next morning. Thank goodness that has faded, though their peaceful morning bed heads and sleepy eyes still warm my searching heart. I love the frequent nights when I am the last to bed, and they are all resting their tried and true souls. I love hugging them at the Sign of Peace at mass, because it is for me the most authentic contact we have in the week. I love talking with them… in circles or one-on-one… hashing out the great questions of life, over and over, and never finishing. I love how angry and sad they can get about the injustices we experience here. We share these heart-breaking moments, and second-hand pain and I believe that through these, we are strengthened in common dreams. I love when we socialize with others and find that instance in a wink, a nudge, or a smile, when I know we are both really glad the other is there. I love fumbling over Spanish with them; especially when we reach that vulnerability when neither of us is really sure that we understood, moreover knows how to respond. How they’ve comforted me in moments of sadness or outrage, and how they’ve delighted in my joys. How faithful they are! And they have committed to going to mass every Sunday with me and the community! They do little things around the house, even when no one notices. They cook delicious dinners. And even when they’re not THAT delicious, or when they’re quite spicy, or the same thing we had for lunch, I still love it because it is blessed food that we share, because they made it, and because we are gathered around a Table to be nourished by it. And they make me laugh!! A lot! And in the most innocent, non-violent, loving ways. We are not without our faults, failures, fears, or frustrations. They challenge me in ways I never could have imagined (see James’entry). We disagree. And agree to disagree. And through it all, I know there is a level of truth and love that I have definitely crossed.

My Febuary “Casa Confession.” Jenna, Michael, Mary, Josh, James, I love you. I cherish you. You are so beautiful. Your eyes. Your eyebrows when you raise them the way only you can. Your hair as it grows and when you cut it. Your morning look. Your dressed-up look. Your “I just got home from work” look. Your community night, “I´m really tired” look. Your smell. Especially when you’ve been hand-washing clothes for an hour! By your presence and our living-together-ness, you have taught me that any future dating of mine should be no less thrilling than the thrill of the coexistence I have experienced with you.

*This extends to former community mates.

From our January NicaNews

I made a sign for the airport that exclaimed, “Just What I Always Wanted!!!” A common Nuzzolese expression for Christmas morning when Santa would bring us exactly what we had been desiring. On December 26 I held up the sign at the Sandino airport and waited joyfully with my whole community for the arrival of my whole family. Just what I always wanted! Butterflies tossed in my stomach as I watched the people come out of customs into baggage claim. That’s them!! There they are!! That’s my family!! OH my gosh I couldn’t believe it. After such an intense year of learning and growing and laughing and crying, there before my eyes, on the other side of this big glass window, was my family! Mom, Dad, Lizzy, Coll, and Pat! They came running over to me, though still on their side of the window, the same beaming beautiful faces, exploding with Nuzzolese energy and excitement. Though Pat was a foot taller, they all looked exactly the same. Same flesh and bones; tears streaming down their faces, as when I saw them last, though this time with huge smiles. We waved and jumped up and down and cried and laughed, rejoicing in our physical proximity! They huddled in a line, arms around each others’ shoulders just looking at me from the other side. GO GET YOUR BAGS! I kept trying to tell them as my body reacted physically, almost heaving, out of breath with excitement. They just stood there for a bit, tearing, and smiling at me. Go get your bags so I can hug you, I kept repeating and pointing to the conveyer belt. Eventually they got their bags and we embraced for 8 days in the heat and adventure of Nicaragua and the AC and comfort of a hotel. Just what I always wanted. To just stare into their eyes and to feel their skin and hug them tightly and hold their hands, after a year and 21 days of dreaming about them. Just what I always wanted.

quickie

Hello friends and family and friends of family and friends!!! I have been spending way too much time away from the computer, more time in prayer and community and work, though I will write soon, I promise! Thank you for your love and prayers! I miss you alot!
The canyon in Somoto!

Letter to the Parish that raised me

“If you look at the Gospel, you’ll discover that God is always on the side of the smallest. So we never feel alone. We’re always in the presence of God. I am a home of God! God is present in each one of us! God comes to us, and uses us to serve others. Yes, we must allow God to work through us to serve others.”
– Salome Costa in Mev Puleo’s The Struggle Is One

December 2007

Dear Family at St. Peter’s,

There was a time when I knew almost all the words to any song that could potentially be played at mass. There was a time when I felt like I knew what to say to a friend in a time of need, when I knew how to care for children like a good baby-sitter, and when I could eat lunch without being interrupted by the image of someone not eating that lunch. This was just a year ago, when you sent me forth with all of your blessings and love to embrace this experience in Nicaragua. Needless to say this year has been fraught with joy and struggle, day by day by day, and I am at a point of complete surrendering to God.

We must allow God to work through us to serve others. I have found this to be so true because I alone cannot change the entire situation of the women in El Recreo where I work. The women share their endless stories of struggle with me and I can only listen. They get so sick and have such little access to health care and I cannot cure them or even go out and buy them the needed medicines. And while I am visiting these women, they buy me a juice and a piece of bread! They share the beans they cooked for their dinner! They share themselves with me and all I can do is open myself to the presence of God that is in every person. If I can see God in each of them, I can better listen, better accept, better love, and thus better serve, no matter how bleak their situations may seem.

These days the thrill of living in Nicaragua is the Purísima season. A phenomenal example of how Nicaraguans serve God and others! Purísima is celebrate for the 9 days leading up to December 8th, the Immaculate Conception. It is as exciting for Nicaraguans as Christmas is for us! All dedicated to the Blessed Mother, people make altars in their homes, decorated beautifully with flowers and a big statue of Mary, and all the neighbors go door to door singing the Purísima songs. After singing about 5 songs at each house, 5 verses of each song, everyone receives a goodie bag! It could be a bag of candy or juice, a banana, or even a plastic cup. Imagine a combination of Halloween and Christmas Caroling… all dedicated to the Virgin Mary! This event reminds me so much of my first days here when I was so nervous, unsure, excited, and still very sad from leaving home. This is also a time when I have to remember that although all these typical Nicaraguan candies and drinks look delicious, they go down quite differently than a Milky Way! The Purísima is so impressionable to me because the majority of these families barely have enough food and drink to live on; Nicaragua is in a severe economic crisis and the people still throw these big celebrations to give praise to Mary.

I am remembering you deeply in this Advent Season, recalling this past year and how generously you have supported me with prayers, emails, packages, and donations. Overwhelming is your love and interest in what I am doing! I am so grateful. Please forgive me for not being able to thank you each individually, as I wish I could. The limits of time, access, and presence here allow me just the opportunity to send you my strongest prayers and thanks.

May God continue to bless this you, your family, this dear community, and our world with love, peace, and the fullest life. And may we strive together, allowing God to work through us so that we may serve others.

Un gran abrazo, “a big hug,”

Margaret Nuzzolese

Encounter With St. Ignatius

At the end of every month, we have what is called Convivencia (meaning "living together"), a mini-retreat where all of my co-workers gather to reflect on a specific theme of Faith/Religion/the Bible. It is usually not the most preferred Sunday 7am activity of my companions and I, but it is a spectacular opportunity to grow in union with our work community. For October Matt, Mary and I had the unique pleasure of planning the theme together, "An Encounter with St. Ignatius," an effort to share our Jesuit roots with our work community and to deepen our understanding of spirituality and service in light of San Ignacio. We called in the faith forces of our other community mates to delight in this experience with us (AKA, beg them to help us with a skit about the life of St. Ignatius!). Ignatian prayers, spirituality sessions, and an educational experience with the Examen united us as always "for the Greater Glory of God!" Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam! Below are some photos from our some academy-award winning performance...

The Skinny

I feel very tired these days. My health is fine but my stomach just never feels right. I can no longer count the zits on my face. And I am almost entirely sick of beans. Wanting to get out of the house, I can’t go very far solo as a woman. And after returning from community retreat on Sunday, where we reflected for 4 days by a rainy beach side, I received a blessed bulky load of news from home. I found myself writing back to everyone “I really wish I could be there with you for this!” And I think that of all the occasions on which I’ve written that in the past 11 mos, I now feel it more than ever. I do wish I could be there with you for this.

But I am here. Here with you through prayer. Here receiving ALL of your love and prayers, letters, care packages GALORE which never ceases to inspire me! Here in Nicaragua with God. And with my new favorite, saving-grace book, Daniel Berrigan´s, Uncommon Prayer. With my community that I know loves and supports me. With hilarious neighbors. (Walking with Doña Maxima in the morning, I can´t stop laughing inside. Friends comment to her on the street, “Hey Maxima! So great that you are walking!” and she responds straight face, no shame, “225lbs! Here we go!” I am re-laughing to myself just recalling that moment!) …And with a job placement that is so challenging sometimes, simply because of the effect that poverty has had on my co-workers. Unwarranted attitudes. Distrust. Harsh tones of voices. My two other team members aren’t speaking. Pointing fingers and chucking blame left and right. Really ugly sights, day after day.

And the ugliest sights I have recognized this week are the skinny.

Please, take a look at your legs. Yes right now, just look down. Check out those thighs. See how they expand outward as it moves upward? “Knocking me out with those American thighs!” See the knee? And the meat south of the knee? I observe almost daily how below my knee emerges an enormous calf, which must be so much grander than I can imagine; because no matter how I contort myself, I can never see around the whole thing! And just barely do my thumbs and index fingers meet when I circle them around the largest diameter. Great legs. Strong legs! Meaty legs. Lacking sufficient appreciation.

Lacking sufficient nutrition: hundreds of children in the neighborhood of El Recreo where I work everyday. And the many women in the banks that are not grossly overweight. They are so unbelievably skinny. The kids that play on the swings waiting for the Soup Kitchen to open: one can only recognize that they even have a knee when they pump their legs trying to swing higher. Otherwise, they sometimes appear as really well-drawn, stick figures from a distance. Skin and bones with a head plopped on. ANYone of them would turn heads in the U.S. and cause one to diagnose the eating disorder. “Did you see how skinny she is?”

The disorder here is that there is no order. They don’t eat three meals a day. Balanced diet means nothing. They simply do not have enough food to eat – enough money to buy food. Word on the street is that “things are so bad these days!” “because of the rain, the bean season failed and now the beans are too expense to buy!” “if things don’t change, we will not have anything to eat!” “the economists are crying because Christmas will be so bad this year!” And I’m crying because for whatever reason, these “have-nots” have gone hungry and malnourished for too long. My co-worker’s 3 ½ year-old granddaughter is sick in the hospital this week: a problem with her molars that pains her too much to eat, exacerbated by rain and poor living conditions, now sick, vomiting, diarrhea, parasites. The specialists have to fix the molars because she has to start to eat again. Who in El Recreo has money for specialists? And if they did have the money, they can’t put her under anesthesia because they are afraid for her small size— 3 ½ years old, she weighs 25lbs. Anemic. She’s not a rare case.

On our retreat we explored in depth Matthew 25: The Final Judgment. Feed the hungry, huh, Jesus?! It is so hard. What does that really even mean? That I should go out and buy cheeseburgers for each suffering kid I see? Donating to World Hunger Organization? Doing a fast to be “in solidarity” with the starving? I don’t know what hunger of body is. Hunger of soul, maybe? Is that what I am experiencing right now? Is it even comparable? Hungry, can I feed you through my prayers? Only if I act on my prayers. Lord may the prayers feed and nourish like food does. May those who starve have a meal. Have lots of meals. May those who have a meal, know the gift it is. And may we all act to make sure everyone has what is necessary to live, “this day our daily bread.”

Working Women

Gloria Maria Tellez. Late 20s. In our banks. Sitting outside her house as I pass her at a New York pace on my way to the Internet Café. “Adios Margarita!” “Adios Gloria!” I see that she is selling fried plantains in little baggies, with the bottle of vinegar on the side. Each baggie = 1 cord = 1/18 of the $. So I shout trying to be friendly, “Working?”… “Always!” She says with a big smile.

Maria Cleotilde. More like 60 years old. In our banks. We visited her recently because she has a niece who is behind in her payment. We find her with hands painted green and sticky glue all over. She’s working alright! She is making leaves out of manila file folders. Cuts them out, paints them green. With newspaper and homemade glue, she sticks a wire in them, so they will stand up in the cemetery. They are little memory cards that people write on and put next to a grave. So we are talking with her, with her crossed eyes and darling half-smile, she promised us that her niece would pay. As if I care if the niece is going to pay? She must have had about 200 leaves sitting there that she had done in that day. “How much do you sell them for Dona Cleotilde?” “45 cords, for 12 dozens.” WHAAT!!!?? That is $2.50 this women makes for 144 of these cut out leaves that she makes all day long with her bare, old, little frail fingers!!!! “And how long have you been doing this for?” “Ohh about 20 years,” she says. “No… more.”

Erika Flores. Mid 20s. Maybe younger. Also in our banks. She has 2 young daughters, and a 1.5 angel son. Single, working mother, she sells clothes. We also found her working in the house. Washing clothes, cleaning dishes, caring for the kids. She is caring for one more these days: Andrea, who is 8, is the severely handicapped daughter of Erika´s older sister, Terliz, who is also in the banks. We learned today that Terliz (the reason for our visit) left for Panama on Tuesday. She left her two daughters, the other with her mom, to go look for work. Working. Erika doesn’t know when she will return or if she will return. And that day Erika was working against the tears to tell us the events that have just unfolded in her life.

Ivonne Gebara. 60s maybe 70s. Feminist Theologian from Brazil. Just came through Managua and I had the chance to go hear her speak twice. A very impressionable woman. She stood there poised, proud, and profound, with a professionally grey skirt-suit, and a beaded necklace and earrings. Both nights the room was packed with about 70 people, majority women. She spoke on “The Nutrients of Spirituality” and “The Nutrients that the Roman Catholic Church gives us today in Latin America.”…(or doesn’t give)… She emphasized the importance of our spirituality coming from the present day, our sacred bodies as women, the heaven that exists here on Mother Earth, and the need of the poor (esp. women) for salvation and liberation and resurrection TODAY. I felt I had a strong understanding of her Spanish when I heard her say:

Shared bread (“give us this day our daily bread”) doesn’t come by petitions. But when we sit and say “how much bread is here?” and then we share what is.

Working to share her ideas on feminist theology with those who are interested, willing, and open to listening.

Yuvelka Calero. 22 yrs old… “My age!”…I thought while standing in her new house. A humble place on the edge of the city, quiet, tranquil, fertile ground – lemon trees, jocotes, pitayas, tamarindo (mmm blessed fruits of Nicaragua!). Her husband, a taxi driver, picked us up for the visit, and upon arrival, her daughter Marianna (4yrs) runs out to me with a hug, “friend!” ;) We meet her at the door, she´s soaked, clearly she´s been washing the clothes, “Here I am, working!” She exclaims happily to us. She whipped us up a fresco de naranja (freshly squeezed o.j.), and I was able to chat with her for about an hour outside. By “chat,” I mean “listen”… as she told me her life happenings from the last 8 years, when she met her husband. He was a bus driver and she a “cobrera” (the person that collects the bus money). “Really?” I asked. “I´ve never seen a woman collect the money before!”… “I used to dress up as a guy!!” She says, “I had my woman clothes underneath the whole time!” She noted that most of the guys knew she was a woman and mistreated her anyway. That was when she was 15 years old, after she had spent years working in a breakfast place, and selling various items in the street. The family of her husband has dropped them both off the radar; because they have always believed that her real work on the buses was prostitution. After assuring me that, of course, it was not, she told me how her spouse had already had 2 wives, a child with each of them, before they got married. He slept with them both and other multiple times while she was pregnant with Marianna. But “He has changed. He is almost a different man. He has apologized in the church and I know he loves me very much.” She isn’t able to work now, she told me, because he husband won´t let her. He doesn´t want her to face the same hardships as she did working on the buses. So instead, she says, “I do everything here! I cook, I clean, I do the laundry and iron, and I watch the girl. I like being with her. Who can care for her better than I? And who would care for her, when he (spouse) is working from 4am to 11pm?” …. He´s working all those hours right!? Even though his taxi shift is from 4am to 2pm?!? I didn´t say that to her. She believes in him. I just thought about how hard she has worked in this life. And how when she was 19, giving birth to Marianna, I was prancing around Boston College planning concerts.

I cherish these women.

Felix

Dear friends and family,

Thank you so much for your loving concern as Hurrican Felix has swept through Central America. My community in Managua received no more rain than normal, "estamos bien"... we are okay. However it is the people on the coast, who are already so poor, who have suffered severely. Please redirect your prayers and attention to them. If there are methods by which you might be able to donate to the relief efforts there, I encourage you to do so.

I thank you with love and prayers,
Margaret

Yet it was our infirmities He bore, our sufferings that He endured... He was pierced for our offenses, crushed for our sins. (Is 53: 4, 5)