I'll be Home for Christmas

Hola a todos! Not too much to report from Bluefields. This week was pretty hectic since I was running a summer camp from Wednesday – Friday of this week. I was nervous as to how it t would go, but thanks to my other site volunteers, it was largely a success. I learned a lot and hopefully next year it will go even smoother. Now I’m just getting ready to spend the holidays with Geri (another Peace Corps volunteer) in Pearl Lagoon, a Creole community on the coast.

It definitely is an unusual feeling to not be spending Christmas in the states with my family. This has always been a special time for us, and since I’ve been born, we’ve always been able to spend it together. As I was shopping this morning, I passed by a store playing “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” (the reggae version of course, because this is Bluefields) and started to tear up. To hold in, I proceeded to scrunch up my face so that the whole walk home it looked like I was trying to poo. Merry Christmas Bluefields.

Listening to this song, however awful its timing was, made me think about the story of the first Christmas. Regardless of what you believe of this story, there is no doubting the enormous sway that it holds in the imaginings of all who celebrate this holiday. The constant messages of “Peace on Earth” and “Love your fellow man” both have strong connections to the birth of Jesus. According to Christian tradition, it was his love for  man which allowed him to be born in the most humble of settings: a smelly and less-than-sanitary animal barn. This theme of love is most, taken from the original Christmas story, is the focus of every Christmas.

For me with my scrunched up got-to-poo face, this year was different. Instead of focusing on this particular theme, I was thinking instead of Mary and Joseph. Like me, Mary and Joseph weren’t able to be with their own families on this first Christmas. Instead, thanks to Caesar Augustus, they were required to travel to Bethlehem while May was nine months pregnant This means that Mary was forced to give birth 1) without the support of her family 2) without comfort of being in her own home or even an inn and 3) after having ridden a long way on a donkey (which cannot be comfortable for a pregnant woman). Any woman will tell you that these are not the most ideal conditions for giving birth, but this is what Mary did. And through this hardship, beauty was brought into the world. 

Now, to clare-ify (I’m sorry, I love doing that), I’m not trying to compare myself to Mary, or claim that what I’m doing is going to produce anything beautiful. It’s simply that experience of not being home for Christmas, has allowed me to look at this story from a different perspective and gain a deeper appreciation of the sacrifice involved. This Christmas, my greatest gift has been to realize that it these little sacrifices (or things I have been forced to give up) which enrich my experience here, reminding me to step outside of myself and my own needs. For during what time is of year is it better to focus on others than Christmas? Merry Christmas everyone J   

Cuando Estoy in Nicaragua...Bluefields Edition

Hola a todos! Looking back on my blog posts, I realize that I should have done this type of blog posting three times by now (I think I said once a month which was rather ambitious of me).  My bad. The good news is that I’I've waited long enough that now I can do a Bluefields themed "Cuando Estoy En Nicaragua". So without further ado, this is a little taste of my life so far in Bluefields.

Well Water: There is no official water infrastructure in the city of Bluefields. Apparently, there have been attempts to construct one the past with the help of foreign aid, but since the water ended up being contaminated with salt water, people stopped paying for the service. Now nearly everyone gets their water from a well, which can only be used for washing and cleaning thanks to fertilizer runoff and tiny microbes.  Drinking water has to be purchased and tends to be pretty expensive. It’s no wonder no one here drinks water…

An Anthropologist’s Paradise: There are six different ethnic groups living in Bluefields, each with a distinct cultural identity and language. The largest ethnic group is, of course, the Mestizo.  These is the part of the population that we generally think of to be “quintessentially Nicaraguan.” The next largest group is the Creole. They are descendants of the Caribbean Slave trade and speak Creole English. What is English Creole? The closest thing I have to compare it to are the English dialects spoken in the Caribbean.  The words are derived from English but many have evolved to have different meanings. The grammatical structure also varies from traditional English. The next ethnic group is the Garifuna, and since that group has more recently come from African , so you tend to see that influence in a lot of aspects of the culture, especially the dancing. The last two groups are the indigenous groups: The Miskito, Suma, and Rama. These three populations were descended from the original inhabitants of Nicaragua.

Wait…country music?: Thanks to my neighbors, I have now listened to more country music in the past month than I have in the past year. Why is that? It is because Creole people love country music.  Every time I hang out in a Creole bar, country music is played. If you don’t believe me, come visit and see for yourself.

Coconuts…are in everything: Coconut trees are everywhere on the coast. Therefore, they put Coconut in everything. My food is fried in coconut oil (which, by the way is actually way healthier than using vegetable oil), the most common type of bread made here is coconut bread, and my gallo pinto is made with (wait for it…) coconut milk. I used to think that the only way to eat coconut was shredded. But I was wrong. So, so wrong. 

Life in Bluefields

Hola a todos!

Since arriving in Bluefields, I realize that I have yet to write a blog post about what I’ve been doing for the past three weeks.  Therefore, I’ve written up a rough schedule for all of you who are interested:

Monday-Thursday: Usually during the week, I spend two days at each school observing classes and getting to know the students and teachers whom I will be working with. The teachers at both schools have been treating me well and giving me more food than I know what to do with! (Confession: I accidentally ate turtle the other day. I know, I know. I’m so ashamed. Environmental peeps, all I can say is “It’s delicious, and I’m sorry.”).  From what I can observe, there’s definitely a lot of work to be done. The lessons are mainly a lecture and copy format followed by a workbook activity at the end. Students aren’t really encouraged to participate, or think more deeply about the information they have learned. The good news is that there seem to be a lot of motivated teachers in both schools, so I’m fairly optimistic about the work that I can do over the next two years.

Friday: On Fridays, I usually either go back to one of the schools in the morning if I feel that I need more observation time, or I run errands.  The past three weeks, I have been working with a youth group run through the Alcaldia (the local unit of government). The age of the kids there ranges from 10-15, so it can be tough to find an activity that appeals to everyone. I’m really enjoying it working with them though, and am hoping to do a “summer camp” in January if I can pull it together in time. At night, I’ll usually go our dancing or grab a beer or two at LaLa’s with friends and fellow volunteers.

Saturdays and Sundays: Weekends are generally a time to relax and clean. Now before you start to get impressed by my dedication to cleaning here, I just want to point out that the even bare minimum weekly chores (aka: washing floors and clothes) take at least 4-5 hours since I 1) haul all the water that I use from a well and 2) wash all my clothes by hand. It’s really hard to think that I complained about doing laundry in the states when now it seems so luxurious to have a washing machine and drier. However, I have to admit that now I’m beginning to enjoy the process. It gives me a couple of hours to be by myself, think, and listen to podcasts that I’ve downloaded n my iPod.

And that is my exciting life in Nicaragua. For those of you trying to live vicariously through my experience, I’m sorry. It’s amazing how fast the novelty of living somewhere can wear off, turning what once felt like life in an alternate universe to the rustics of everyday life. Still every day I feel incredibly blessed for this opportunity to further expand my conceptualization of what it means to live “normally.” Until next time….