Med-Evac

There are so many Peace Corps abbreviations, terms, rules, and protocol to follow. Who knew that what was supposed to be a small cut could turn into something so big?

For those of you who are wondering what in the world happened to me, I wish I had an exciting story. I've wanted to tell people it was a machete that cut my foot while working in the garden or an iron rod while working on a stove project. I wish I had a story that had to do with a pig or a mishap with a herd of cows crossing the road. Unfortunately, the background story is not so exciting.

In Nicaragua, many of the houses are built with zinc metal sheets on the roof. At the house, there were many sheets of this metal outside in the patio because a family member is building his house. Contrary to instructions, the construction workers had not put the slabs up high on the roof nor did they cover the sharp ends with cardboard. They were simply laying on top of some concrete blocks, about 6 inches off the ground.

So, one dark night about two weeks ago, Morgan showed up. I did know that they were there, but was running around trying to make invitations for a baby shower. In my hurry, I walked out the door quickly and instead of passing through the narrow path between the car and the roof pieces I walked straight into the metal slabs, cutting the top of my foot on the sharp edge.

I was stitched up at the health center and reassured that none of the tendons had been cut. However, a week later my foot was still swollen and I was unable to walk on it. After seeing a specialist, it was determined that I had indeed cut multiple tendons and needed surgery. Within a few hours I went from having a cut to being shipped off to the U.S. for surgery.

What a whirlwind! Luckily, Peace Corps takes care of us. However, I was prepared for a vacation in the states to celebrate my sister's wedding, not for surgery and a month of recuperation. I packed my suitcase in 20 minutes, grabbed my passport, and headed back to Managua to await my flight. No goodbyes, no time to make sure I had what I needed, no time to process the reverse culture shock.

Now I have about a month at home, hoping and wishing that I recover quickly so that I can finish up the short time I have left in Nicaragua. To some, it may seem simple. Just be done, why not? I've already served 22 months in Nicaragua, accomplished many goals, and changed a great deal. But 22 months is not what I signed up for. 22 months does not give me the time to finish up the projects and trainings I had left on my list of goals. 22 months does not give me the same feeling of accomplishment of finishing my service with the other 39 people who started it with me. 22 months does not give me the full year with my students to watch them grow and change. 22 months and a sudden departure did not give me the time to say goodbye to the many people I have gotten to know and love over the course of my time in Nicaragua. 22 months just doesn't cut it.

You never know when something might happen and it may be the worst timing in the world. But all there is to do when it does is keep your head up, smile, and hope for the best. That is what I plan to do as I hope to be cleared to go back to Nicaragua to finish what I started.

Friendly Catcalling

Can there ever be such a thing? I have sadly become accustomed to the whistles, creepy voices saying “Adioooooooos” and men and boys who are way too old or too young checking me out. I don’t get angry every day, I don’t answer, I now just go about my business and hope it doesn’t get to me enough to interrupt my day.

But then I traveled to the east coast of Nicaragua. I was impacted by the new languages that surrounded me (including English creole), the new foods, the water on all sides, and coconut trees everywhere. Toto, we were not in Nicaragua anymore (even though we still were)!

So it shouldn't have been such a surprise to me that even the catcalls were different. But still I was caught off guard by men sitting by the street yelling, “Goodbye,” “Have a lovely day,” “Good morning,” etc. I had learned how to put on what I call my “bitch face” in my everyday life because the men in the streets of my town are creepy, rude, and obnoxious. But what do you do when someone gives you a friendly greeting in the street? He is still probably hinting at how beautiful you are, how much he loves your looks, etc, yet it’s much harder to put up the same shield in that context. We questioned whether or not to respond and how to deal with the nice comments. Time after time while we walked around the city of Bluefields we were taken aback by men wishing us well on the streets.

It’s a very subtle difference between the east and west coasts of Nicaragua, maybe one that not all would pick up on, yet it changed my days. I know that the coastal men are just as machista as the mainland, but their approach to wooing a woman was so different. I simply appreciated the fact that I didn’t feel quite as angry, hateful, and frustrated. On the contrary, the street salutations often made me smile, something that a mainstream Nicaraguan catcall very rarely does.

Apart from the friendly catcalls, Bluefields and Pearl Lagoon are beautiful. White sand beaches, water everywhere, lush green plants, GRASS surrounding the houses, and delicious baked goods. We mostly spent our days relaxing at the beach or in town, though the travel was extensive so we felt worn out by so many boat rides and a long bus ride. I realized as I relaxed by the water, took the small boats from one town to the next, and soaked it all in that I need to live near water. I was soothed and refreshed, just as I feel when I take the time to watch the sunset on my dock back in Minnesota.

One challenge we faced was a constant uncertainty of what language to speak to the locals. Most people speak at least broken Spanish, but English creole is their first language in Pearl Lagoon. In Bluefields it was a guess as to which one to speak because about half of the population is mixed with Spanish blood and half African descendants from English slave ships, along with the indigenous populations.

Additionally, it was interesting to contrast some of the cultural and historical differences between the two coasts. The east coast is much less Sandinista and more efficiently abides by a traditional governing body. There are indigenous populations, a mixed (Spanish with indigenous) population, African descendants from the English slave ships, and a population of African descendants who first settled on St. Vincent after a shipwreck and then were displaced along the east coast of Central America. I was fascinated by the stark contrast between the heavy Latino culture on the west coast versus the Caribbean feel on the east coast.

Many of us volunteers pondered whether or not we would have been a good fit for the coast. Now, after understanding Nicaraguan culture on a deep level, working hard on my Spanish skills, and enjoying the Latino life, I would like to be able to spend time on the coast. However, I wouldn’t trade my Nicaraguan experience for anything.

Two different worlds, two different perspectives. My only conclusion for now is that I would take a “Have a nice day lady!” any day over a whistle from a 14 year old boy. 

Two Years

It turns out we do become experts!

Ok, so expert is a bit of an exaggeration, but it does feel good to have entered this school year with a better handle on how the year would go. Many asked me at the end of my first year if I wished the experience was over at that point. I contemplated, reflecting over the hardest part of my service between the one year mark in country and when I had completed one year in my service. It is true, there were a lot of bumps and bruises, many difficulties in various aspects of life: physical, emotional, and professional. But my answer was always the same: I am grateful to have another year to improve what I can about my job.

Now I understand even more about how important this second year is in terms of service. We began the school year in February and although I started over in some sense by choosing almost all new teachers to work with, I had a much better idea of how to explain my job, how to enter into the classroom, and what would work in terms of my classroom role. I certainly am no expert, but I feel much more prepared. Though many days I do feel like I’m still figuring it out, I have felt more equipped to respond to newer volunteers’ questions of advice.

The tough part is that this experience of two years makes me very critical not only of aid, but of shorter term volunteer work. I spent the first three months in site simply absorbing the culture around me, getting to know the school system, observing and quietly noting important aspects of the society in which I now live. The work came later and as I have said, many failures and learning experiences filled my first year of service. In my second year there will be failure, but maybe not quite as big. There will be challenges, but I may be better prepared to navigate those situations. There will be frustrations, but I hopefully now know what to spend my time worrying about and what to give up on. Being a part of this process has made me see how development work or any foreign work really cannot be done on a short term scale.

This is certainly not to say that short term volunteers have not made a positive impact in the work that they have done. I am simply grateful to have a chance to do it all again, to start my second year with experience under my belt and feeling more prepared.

For now, I am living day by day, planning my work over the next 7 months. For those who wonder what my next steps are, you will just have to wait a bit longer. This second year has given me the opportunity to complete many new projects and I need to fulfill my work to the best of my abilities before thinking about what my next moves are back in the U.S. Two months into the school year I am very optimistic about my work this year. Happy 2015!

Strawberry Delight

Nothing like a day of shopping to put some spunk back in my step. But for anyone who knows me, shopping is not exactly my favorite pastime. With my sister's wedding approaching, I was forced to hit the streets of Esteli, a nearby city, to search for a dress.

I did not give up early (as I often get discouraged) and my friend and I continued to walk in and out of stores on a deep hunt. The advantage we had was looking for certain colors. In a matter of two hours we had walked through the entire business area of the city and were left wondering where to go next.

Then, we saw them! Strawberries. Yes, Nicaragua has mangoes and pineapple, guayaba and passion fruit. Us Peace Corps volunteers anticipate each fruit season like a kid waiting for Santa Claus. However, when you have not eaten a strawberry for over a year and a half, that level of excitement grows. Apples, they're around. Pears I ate when I was at home. Biting into that strawberry was for me as if all of my worries suddenly dissipated and all I felt was happiness.

As my friend and I sat on a step eating strawberries, I felt like a child again. I realized that one of the advantages of dedicating two years of your life to this lifestyle is that very little things can make a huge difference in one's day. Maybe it also speaks to how much of an emotional roller coaster this experience is, one moment happy about something so minuscule as liquid hand soap, and the next angry at the man hissing at you on the street. Luckily, it is not only strawberries that make me smile...

Things that make me ridiculously happy:
-Liquid hand soap
-Washing my clothes in a washing machine
-A hot shower
-Strawberries
-Real ice cream
-A good latte
-Elizabeth's daily hugs and kisses
-Green beans at the market (50 cents)!!
-A head of green and purple lettuce (again 50 CENTS!)
-Laughing with my friends while walking aimlessly around the city
-Sitting on a stoop and having NO ONE look at me
-Red headed Nicaraguans
-My students greeting me with "Good morning teacher"
-A beer after a long week of work
-Air conditioning
-A comfortable bed
-Dancing to Latin music (without creepy men bothering me)
-Responding to catcalls with something clever/telling men off

And I could keep going...

I know this experience has helped me to identify the little things in life that make each day great, but I hope to continually identify these aspects of my life, no matter where I live. It's the little things in life that keep us going, the little things that keep me smiling.

Another Morgan!

I arrived at home the other day to find multiple children saying, “There’s another Morgan at the basketball court!” “She’s tall just like you!” The gringos came to town.

I become surprised every time I hear of gringos in town simply because it doesn’t happen very often. These days, it doesn’t really matter what they are handing out, I feel very critical of their reasons for being here. Nicaraguans, like anyone else, love free stuff. Ask any “poor” college student and they would tell you that it doesn’t matter what free food or free material was offered, they would attend. I understand the desire for free stuff.

But what does that mean in terms of aid? I used to fill bags of food for Feed My Starving Children, packing rice enriched with soy and other dehydrated foods to be sent to developing countries around the world. Now, I live on the receiving end of this donation and will be eating the same food that a volunteer packed on the day my family decides to cook it.

Here come the gringos with free food and shoes to give out. People are excited to receive whatever this may be. But is this all we can do?

I am certainly not saying that Peace Corps as an organization is perfect nor that we work under a perfect development model. I, too, have been caught in moments where I have wanted to simply do something for my community instead of teaching someone how to do it for the sake of efficiency and quality. But how far does that go? We can continue to give materials and aid, at times to corrupt governments who do not spread the wealth or at times it does reach those in need. But will that solve a suffering economy?

The bus rolls up in San Isidro full of gringos with a smile who dance and give out packages of food. Food that will not even be enough to feed families for even one day. We are not solving issues of development here, and maybe we’re not pretending to. Maybe it’s just fine that all we want to do is alleviate some suffering.

What I do know is that my perspective has changed greatly since coming to Nicaragua. In December I was able to return home to enjoy a wonderful Christmas with my family and friends. I have so many opportunities, so much privilege, and so much to be thankful for. Most of all, I’m grateful for the lessons I have learned in Nicaragua, the skills I have gained, and the moments I will remember for my entire life that I have spent with my Nicaraguan family and friends. But to be honest, I'm happy to be the only "Morgan" in town again.

Inaugurating Christmas

I recently had a conversation with a Nica friend who asked me what the date was when we "inaugurate Christmas." I stared at him blankly. What do you mean?

Apparently it has leaked all the way to Nicaragua that we celebrate Christmas big. What he really wanted to know was at what point it is acceptable for us to start setting up decorations and get into the holiday spirit. I explained to him that while the stores are full of Christmas gear immediately after Halloween (and sometimes before) many families have the tradition of "inaugurating Christmas" around Thanksgiving. He exclaimed that we should have a party here to do the same.

This conversation made me really reflect on the past year. One year ago I was two weeks into site, just settling in to my host family and gearing up for the celebrations ahead. While in the U.S. we put our Christmas décor up for a month, I feel that it simply sits and we wait for the celebration of Christmas. Nicaraguans instead, spend the whole month of December celebrating. It is a month of graduations, as the school year ends and they celebrate preschool, sixth grade, and high school graduations. It is a month of birthdays, at least in my host family, which means at least a little cake every once in a while. It is a few days of celebrating the Virgin Mary in what they call "La Purissima" through prayer circles where they give out candy, fruit, and plastic kitchenware. It is Christmas Eve with dancing, music, and fireworks. It is New Year's Eve with more dancing, a doll made of old clothes that you set on fire, and more fireworks. To me, inaugurating Christmas means much more in Nicaragua than it does in Minnesota.

We are all looking forward to the end of the school year in the first week in December, teachers and students alike. This year has flown by faster than I ever imagined. Many people ask if I am ready to come home. I have completed one year, I have accomplished some of my goals, I have immersed myself in another community, and I have felt homesick for Minnesota. But I'm not done. Though the Peace Corps is criticized for throwing people into the job without much training, it is a learn as you go experience. Everyone is different and everyone handles the situations we face differently. I for one am happy to have another year to improve the projects that failed, to do better at my job in general, and to start the new projects that I never got going for one reason or another. Two years may feel like a long time in some moments, but in general, I feel that it is an adequate amount of time for us to really make a difference, to have a meaningful exchange with people, and to fulfill our goals, both personal and professional.

This is not to say that I'm not counting down the days until I can sit with hot chocolate making sugar cookies after playing broomball on the snowy lake. In 32 days I will be in shock once again to be home after 16 months away. I am ready to inaugurate Christmas in both cultures, the best of my both worlds.

Child Birth in an Unequal Society

I recently saw statistics showing the leading countries in gender equality. Surprisingly enough, Nicaragua appeared 6th on the list behind Iceland, Scandinavian countries, and Denmark. The U.S. came in as the 20th country on the list. Seeing this list I began to question gender equality in this country and in my own as well.

Here is the link to the Global Gender Gap realeased by the World Economic Forum:
http://mic.com/articles/102560/how-well-does-your-country-treat-women-check-this-interactive-map

What is clear to me about Nicaragua's supposed small gender equality gap is that this study looked closely at the situation in Managua. It cannot be denied that the Sandinista party has done well in appointing female leaders. These include important positions such as the National Police Chief along with many departmental and city chiefs, the national Minister of Education along with an entire institution led by women, and smaller positions filling the mayors' offices around the country. Women have been appointed and elected, they hold an important part in the politics of Nicaragua.

But let's talk about the gender gap in Nicaragua. How many women are actually working? This number drops significantly after a woman has children. How are women treated on a daily basis both in the workplace and in the home? Even a working woman is expected to complete all of the household chores outside of her work hours while the man simply needs to work his shift and return home at the hour that he pleases. Young girls are heard saying that they simply want to be mothers, and that does not mean in the future but that they are searching for a man when they are as young as 12 or 13 years hold. Women are expected to give a man a family, but the responsibilities will be solely theirs, with the exception of discipline in many cases. With many more logistical opportunities for men to continue their education (because young boys are not expected to help with housework or watching their siblings), this country does not deserve 6th place on that map.

I recently had the opportunity to visit an aunt in my host family who gave birth. My host mom (her sister-in-law) took her to the hospital and took care of her overnight. A group of family members (made up of mostly women except the driver) visited her that night in the hospital. We entered two by two into a room full of women, those who recently gave birth and those who were caring for the newborns and recent mothers. There was not a man in site. The baby was beautiful, perfectly calm and to my surprise, nameless! The dad was working outside of town and so she needed to wait to consult with him. I know very little about the birthing process in the U.S., but I do know that my own mother was angry with my father on the day of my birth for taking the bus and not having his car. I can't even imagine the father being absent at the birth of his own son or daughter. There were so many questions I had about this process both in the U.S. and in Nicaragua.

And so I have been informally interviewing people all week. As far as I know, three days have passed and the baby still does not have a name. Now I understand all of the confusions on birth certificates and formal documents of children in Nicaragua. Many children don't even know how to write their name correctly as it was put on their birth certificate. But many women have told me that that's just how it is in Nicaragua. Babies receive a name a few days after their birth perhaps because of lack of communication between the couple. (My thoughts are that I can't believe that 9 months aren't enough to resolve that, but who knows...) Women have also told me that although men were previously banned from the birthing room, they are now allowed in should they so choose. The woman may choose one person to accompany her in the birthing process, but men are still largely absent. It is a woman's process, I have been told. It is a tradition, whether the mother goes to the hospital or has her babies in her house, that she is surrounded by only female family members.

This to me feels like an ancient tradition. I feel enraged for these women that these men are so detached from their babies. As with many difficult subjects that I face in Nicaragua, I chose to discuss what I know as customary in the U.S. as well as what I will/would do in that situation. I have exclamed to almost any woman who will listen that whenever in the far off future I do have children, my partner will be right there by my bedside watching his baby be born. Having a child is not and never has been a process of one person. Why should any part of that process be left only to the woman?

The worst part of these situations that test my beliefs are hearing "that's just the way it is." I often get an affirmation that the way we do things in the U.S. would be nice, but that's not how it is in Nicaragua. Their reality is much different from mine and making them see that change is possible may be the biggest challenge I or anyone else will ever face.

The U.S. has a long way to go in closing the gender gap. I know there are too many cases of men detached from their children in our own country as well. Many women in the U.S. at least know that life does not have to be so unequal. Sometimes we view these statistics as fact without considering how people behind these numbers based on economics live. It is moments like these that make me thankful for the country that I come from and extremely distraught to know that many women will never know what even those possibilities of equality look like.