Huertos, chivalos, and usted

Week two of training is complete and I can say that we successfully planted a garden (huerto) at our school with eleven 6th graders and two mothers. This is no small feat considering the space we had to work with and a few challenges along the way. But the first visible accomplishment has been checked off our list and now we learn from this experience to take on to our site.

Everything we are doing in training is a miniproject of what we will be doing at our sites. Instead of working with four volunteers and a Peace Corps staff member to build a garden, we will facilitate everything with our own classes once in our town. Instead of conducting a group survey about environmental issues, we will individually use surveys to get to know the needs of our town. And instead of language classes and integration assignments, we will be forced to hit the streets in our future home and get to know people on our own. That thought is a bit daunting right now, but as training is intense and worthwhile I think we will be as best prepared for our individual experiences as possible.

Chivalos is a slang term for kids here. Ive heard it a lot in the past few days as Im trying to pick up on more slang terms every day. There are lots! I thought Chilean Spanish was hard, but I realize that though the vocabulary there was radically different, it was relatively small. Here there are many things that are different from what I have learned so it will take some time in order to pick up on everything. Im already better at using "usted" which is a formal way to say you. Its taken some time, but Im finally becoming accustomed to referring to people as usted. I am definitely excited to see where my Spanish will be in two years after I have spent so much time here.

Its hard to believe that two weeks ago I arrived at my host family. We just completed two weeks of training which feels like the time flew by. Already I feel as though Ive been here for a while, and yet I dont know where this week went! This will only continue as this week we are co-planning with our teachers and then teaching the following week. Scary! I observed classes this week and found that the teacher Im working with is very engaging to her students, but the methods of all Nica teachers is to dictate from a textbook while the students copy paragraphs of information. We have manuals of hundreds of pages of ideas so here goes nothing in terms of learning some different teaching methods. I have a few on the top of my head, but we will see what else I learn about.

Each day is hot, long, and exhausting, but overall things are going very well. We have heard that Peace Corps Nicaragua is one of the best countries to be in, but Im actually starting to believe that the staff here make that true. The Peace Corps really is one big family. Here comes week three!

Note: I apologize for a lack of punctuation as Im still trying to figure out the Nicaraguan keyboard. :)

Just a note

As I'm sure you've noticed, the dates in the titles are different from the dates of posting. I have been writing blog posts on days when I don't have internet and will continue to post them whenever I can get to internet access. Because of this, I will probably have more than one post on "one day" but just know that they are from separate days.

An Exotic Animal: August 22

Spotted: Walking through the streets of Diriamba. Clearly not native to the area. So far acting timidly but occasionally approaches people. Approach with caution.

Can you guess? Yes, that animal is a redheaded girl with gringo parents from Minnesota. I knew coming into this experience that I would draw attention to myself. I knew that I would not fit in naturally and that many people would stare on the street. I knew that men would catcall and women would look suspicious as if they needed to hold on tight to their husbands and boyfriends. I knew that I would feel annoyed by the stares and the comments, but I had to recognize that I was in a new culture and I had experienced all of this before so I knew how to deal with it, or so I thought.

It could be my role as a “professional” instead of a student or my place in a relatively small community that makes me feel different this time. But for some reason it is no less annoying than when I first arrived in Chile or Peru. I feel like a spectacle walking through the streets. The four volunteers in Diriamba make up an interesting mix as two are of Mexican decent, one is Asian-American, and I am a redhead. In introducing ourselves people recognize that my two classmates are Latino and blend in, they describe my other friend as “China,” and I am the gringa, the most gringa that you can get. My friend Stephanie is Chinese, so she says the comments of China don’t bother her even though the stares get awkward. It’s a bit like me, that I don’t get offended when I’m called a gringa, but I don’t see why people feel the need to point it out all the time. I know I don’t look the same, but why do people we meet feel the need to talk about it?

I shouldn’t be frustrated. I know that people are just making small talk and speaking not to offend but according to the cultural norms of Nicaragua. But I don’t understand why in addition to the stares and the catcalls and the comments of short phrases in English I also have people telling me I look like a gringa. I am a gringa in a new country. I am from the U.S., I speak English and Spanish, I am white as white can be, and I’m trying to integrate into a country that blatantly categorizes people by how they look.

But then I question, is it that much different from the U.S.? We categorize people everyday without even thinking about it. If you meet a white person you ask where they’re from and nod when they tell you somewhere in the states. If you meet a person of color, some are not satisfied with an answer like Minneapolis. You can’t be from Minneapolis, you have to identify as Chinese, Mexican, South African, or Hmong. I am a part of the majority, which is part of the reason why it bothers me to be treated this way, because never before (besides the limited time I’ve spent abroad) have I been treated like this. I’m not used to it in a place I want to call home. But many of my friends and many people in the U.S. are viewed as “exotic animals” every day. One of these things is not like the other and how do I now deal with now being the thing that stands out? How does that change my perspective on the way I walk through the world? It’s not that I never before have thought of how people of color feel in a white school or environment, but on some small scale I now better understand the frustration and anger that comes with being treated like this. And like many, after a while I will begin to ignore it, grow accustomed to these ways and continue on in my life. The stares may not be quite as blatant in the U.S. (though I think some probably are) and the comments may be more hushed, but we clearly still have a long way to go. I can sit in Nicaragua and attribute these feelings to cultural differences, but what do you do when you are alienated in your own home in your own country? Most importantly, how do we individuals who are a part of the white majority change the way that we walk through the world to change U.S. culture? 

Back to school- August 21

Didn’t I just finish school? What, I have Spanish classes and homework? Ok, so it’s nothing like college and mostly the homework consists of asking our host families how something works or what the traditions are, but it is class no less. We’re learning slang and cultural norms in the living room of a host family or while walking around town. We are sent to the streets to ask people the meaning of words, phrases, or for directions. With only four of us in one town, we’re getting to know each other and our Profesora very well.

On Tuesday we actually went to school. In many public schools in Nicaragua the students either go to school in the morning or the afternoon, but not both. For training our group is split into two, with two volunteers working in the school for a few hours in the morning and my group working the afternoon. The four of us and our profe met the director of the school and the teachers in the morning. With sixth grade we will plant and maintain a vegetable garden on the school premises, otherwise we are working with either fourth or fifth graders.

In the afternoon we returned to the school so that I could meet the teachers I will be working with. Our visit was simply intended to meet the teachers and get their schedule, returning for to do an icebreaker activity and meet students on Monday. However, I entered the classroom and was greeted by about 30 students as the Profesora introduced me to the entire class. Nervous and thinking hard, I introduced myself in Spanish and also explained right away that I was still learning Spanish which is why I would make some mistakes. Then, the Profesora invited me to stay to watch presentations. In the end, we all watched a dramatization by the fourth grade students on obesity. My nerves subsided as I watched smiling faces glance at me and I remembered that kids are kids no matter where in the world they are and I love to work with them. I left energized and excited to work with the fourth graders.

It has been a whirlwind of a week feeling as if we were thrown into a lot of experiences. It is not in my nature to walk up to someone and ask for directions on the street, let alone in Spanish in another country! But getting outside of my box helped me to see that it is truly all a part of integration and becoming comfortable with this community. I am once again gaining confidence with my Spanish skills, although Nicaraguans use quite different vocabulary than Chileans so it may take a while. So although I have returned to school in many ways, I am glad for the experiences both in and outside the “classroom.”

What it means to be disconnected: August 18

This I have noticed and learned thus far:

-How to eat ice cream from a baggy

-Cold showers aren’t bad when it’s hot outside and you have running water

-It takes a lot of thinking to remember that the toilet paper goes in the trash, not the toilet

-No wifi, access to computers, or telephone (or chance to gain access to one) is what it means to be actually disconnected

-When integrating, one week feels like a lifetime

-Kids are very hard to understand in Spanish

-Kids are also a good source of vocab because you can ask what everything is and pretend like you’re testing them instead of wondering for yourself!

-I am now treated as one of the kids and feel like they actually want this to be my home.

-Nicaraguans are loud all of the time (cars, music, shouting, dogs) and are very used to it

-Nicaraguans watch a lot of tv

On Saturday morning our group split into TEFL and Environmental volunteers. We boarded two separate buses after a sad farewell to our new friends and were delivered to our host families. The ride was full of nervous chatter and lots of silence as thoughts drifted to our new realities and for lots of people, the language obstacles that loomed. Though I had experienced this before, I still felt nervous and insecure as I headed south to my community of 30,000.

I was greeted by Daysi and José, my new host parents in their sixties. As many know, I love old people (grandparents) nearly as much as I love children. Daysi immediately showed me around, welcomed me, and sincerely told me that I would be their new daughter and they hoped I would feel at home here. I have never been so touched at a time when I really did need that reassurance. This really is the country of “open arms” or brazos abiertos.

After a lunch of rice with veggies and beef (yes, we have been eating rice with almost every meal) and salad, I headed just down the street for my first Spanish class at another volunteer’s house. Mostly we discussed Nicaraguan dichos (slang), greetings, and gestures. It was again comforting to be with fellow volunteers.

I then returned home and met my three year old host “brother” (their grandchild). The house is made up of: José and Daysi, their daughter Claudia who works in Managua and only comes on the weekends, their daughter Violeta and her husband Luis, and their two children (the grandchildren) Luis Jesús (3) and Claudio (2 months old). In addition, there are aunts and uncles, cousins, and friends who are in and out of the house all of the time.

José took me under his wing because the 2 month old was scheduled for surgery the next and there was family everywhere. My host mom was obviously worried and preoccupied with that situation, so I got to know José. I discussed sports with him and discovered how truly connected to the world he is. He doesn’t watch any of the national channels (a topic to be explored later) and loves U.S. channels on his flat screen tv. He knows all about soccer and baseball and asked me about Los Gemelos (Twins). I was lost for a minute, I mean who really knows about Minnesota sports teams outside of the Midwest!? What a small, interconnected world. We watched and discussed soccer, baseball, fútbol americano (football) and I discovered he has a son and three grandkids in LA. We chatted about Nica and previous volunteers who stayed with them (I’m the 17^th!), and my newest challenge with Spanish is to understand everything he says while the tv is blasting and motorcycles roar on the street in front. He speaks quietly and not very markedly anyway, so this will definitely be a difficult task. We ate Nacatamales for dinner, a Nicaraguan form of tamales. ¡Qué delicioso! The night ended with Daysi, José, and I watching an old western dubbed in Spanish. I was shocked that José had seen it many times and loved it. These older movies my dad had watched many times were being watched here in Nicaragua!

My host family is pretty well-off, they have a “domestic employee” and a babysitter for Jesús. Their flat screen is just as nice as the one in my family room at home. They are politically informed and José watches the news many times per day. Here I am, clashing (chocando) with this culture. I am hyper-connected and seeking a break from the internet, phone, and tv. But everyone here has a cell phone and lots have a tv (at least where I am). They are more connected than I am and now I am finding comfort in that. I felt relieved that although I couldn’t talk to my parents I could watch the Westerns my dad always watched and feel closer to home than I actually am.

Here I have no phone (yet), no wifi, no access to the internet at all. I wanted to feel relieved by escaping this aspect of the U.S. and yet I feel this disconnect making m y transition a bit harder. It’s not that I would be connected everyday, but I would have an opportunity to share stories with my family if I wanted to. I will have to let go of that need for immediate contact.

Update! I have obviously found internet at a couple of places, so updates will come. I will probably be posting later than I’m writing. 

Easing the minds of 41 ambitious U.S. citizens

I have arrived! After a long day of orientation in D.C. and an even longer day of travel, 41 tired, excited, and anxious volunteers arrived in Managua. As new volunteers, most of us in our early to mid twenties, we quickly bonded over everything from people’s responses to our decisions to join PC to our sad goodbyes to family and friends back home. It became almost immediately apparent that without even trying, we had a safe space to share, reflect, and truly let our guards down. That doesn’t happen so quickly very often between so many people.

What can I say about the first two days in Nicaragua? It is indeed very hot and humid, we are staying in a hotel that feels like paradise, and so far things are going very well. All of the staff is amazingly wonderful and understanding (mostly of the fact that we’re exhausted after travel and long days of orientation), and the pool feels unbelievably good after a day of orientation. A few of our fears have been alleviated by the orientation sessions, but not many have been wiped away. We often hear in response to questions, "there will be an entire session on that." So we continue to wait and find out a little information at a time. 

It has been nearly a year since I applied to the Peace Corps on a whim, thinking why not see what happens and keep my options open? After months of paperwork, interviews, research, and hard thought I signed up for 27 months in Nicaragua. But that never felt real. It continued to be that way throughout the summer and the weeks leading up to my departure. Sure, I kept explaining where I was going and what I would be doing to people, but it never sunk in. I got on a plane after a tearful goodbye and still felt calm, collected, and ready for this experience. Finally, after months and months, I realize what 27 months feels like. I didn’t have a panic attack, or break down, but for the first time 27 months feels very real. I keep thinking of the support I have back home, the motivation I have for myself, and the new friends I’ve made who are thinking much of the same things. As I look forward, I know that my commitment to the Peace Corps in Nicaragua is real, but I also am deeply looking forward to taking on the challenge.

Today we found out our host families for the first three months of training. I will be in a city even larger than my hometown for the next three months!! It's called Diriamba and it's about an hour from Managua. I have two host parents, two host sisters, one host brother-in-law, and a host grandchild (or would that be my host nephew?) who is six. I'm very excited and have already heard great things about the family! I am in the same city as three other volunteers and will get to know them quite well over the next few months. Now it feels like we're truly starting the first leg of our journey. Training will be intense, but I can't help but feel the anticipation to finally discover more about working in the schools. So much unknown, so much to be discovered. The volunteers who are giving us insight are so enthusiastic about what lays ahead for us that it has brightened all of our perspectives. This is a truly amazing country like none other, that I have uncovered after only three days in a hotel. 

Here’s to 27 months of listening to geckos click at night and parrots chirp in the tree above you, to hot weather and NO snowy cold winters, to new friends, new connections, and new relationships everywhere, to becoming fluent in Spanish and letting it take me places, and to an amazing experience of growth and change. 

Packing a life into two bags...

Ok, so that's a lie. I do hope there's more to my life than simply a suitcase and a duffel bag. Plus if you add my carry-on backpack it's technically three bags. Regardless, I have scaled down my belongings considerably in order to move to another country and fit into a different lifestyle. Many have asked how you are supposed to pack for two years in two bags. The answer: I have no idea, but somehow it has worked.

It is interesting to think about the things one needs in order to live. "Need" is such a subjective word.  My mind has been consumed with thoughts of my needs and wants, my clothing choices, and the new lifestyle I am about to adopt. Part of me wants to say, forget it. There is no chance that my appearance will blend into my surroundings no matter how polished my Spanish is so I should just ignore the fact that Nicaraguans wear jeans even though the weather is tropical. (And let's be honest, this Minnesota girl is in no way used to 95 degrees of sweltering heat for long periods of time.) But then I come back to my senses and hope I've packed the right combination of clothes to neither offend nor stand out in my community based upon my outfits. Back and forth I have considered my clothing options.

But now, by some great miracle, my clothes and "needs" for the next two years are tucked into a suitcase, duffel, and backpack. I've always thought of myself as a simple person and in many ways I am. Unfortunately my packing skills tend to be on the heavy side. I just keep thinking about the "stuff" we have in our lives. The things we don't want to throw or give away, but that simply sit in our closets collecting dust. I sorted through bins of half-used bathroom products and books I barely enjoyed reading the first time ready to toss most items. But then mom reminds me that I may want to keep that teddy bear for some day FAR down the road when I have children or that the first book that I read in Spanish was a real accomplishment that should be remembered. I've decided that lots of extra stuff can go, but even the silliest of belongings with memories attached will have to stay. Yes, we U.S. Americans are attached to our stuff, our materials, but sometimes a few dolls and old necklaces are worth the memories.

My relationship with stuff will undoubtedly change in some ways during this experience. As for right now, I know we have too much stuff, but I have yet to discover an effective way to avoid buying into the consumeristic society that is the U.S., even if that's on a minimal scale.