there is a phrase in Spanish that means consumption...consumismo. but here in nicaragua it means something else....not like consumismo, consumption but con su mismo or with your same...the idea being that they don`t really consume, they just use whatever they have because there isn`t anything else. i thought it could be neat grass-roots anti-consumerism name if anyone is interested...
had a spectacular day...just because i felt His patience, His kindness, His joy leading me through..and as i thanked Him on the bus ride home, i realized that on the surface it was not any different of a day...but the immense gratitude felt by one relying on Him and not themselves is a pretty wonderful feeling.
one of my students asked me, startled, today...Miss Ternes, what color are your eyes?? (They are hazel, greenish brown with gold flecks) and i told them that they are like sunflowers (girasol)...and then realized that was a term my fiancè used to describe them. and it made me smile.
i`m finding flexibility to be a really valuable quality...not only in body but in soul. sometimes you just gotta let things go and its ok that not everything on the list got scratched off.
He makes all things possible. and provides the means to achieve, to reach, to make it through. that is such a comforting thing.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
mentirosa
yep. thats me.
well, internet access is really a relative term. as in not really available. at all. and then there was the computer crash incident of this morning as i attempted to download obamas speech for an english class plan tomorrow. sometimes i forget im in nicaragua and get upset, and then i get over it.
some simple joys lately
- always having enough. be it a teeny ounce of energy to finish a plan, 5 minutes more that help me be on time, one last piece of chocolate, that last 20 cord bill that meets my needs, and always the grace to make it through.
- appreciating the cool climate that greets me after a sweaty dusty day in managua
- being called prof sara by people i dont know
- limonada con soda. absolutely refreshing
- people that go out of their way to help me and appreciation when i do the same
- someone who is constantly thinking of me and supporting me wherever i am, no matter how tired or busy he is
- a new bed
- some fantastic books involving an asian background...distant land of my father, memoirs of a geisha
- the numerous beautiful eyes that smile up at me as i pass by them at my school
- the fine frenzy
- a well-timed word from the Word
- hope of something bigger than myself
- knowing my path is already known and secure, even though there may be moments when it doesnt feel like either of those things
- simple kindness
my days are running together with the simple thread of teaching, and im exhausted. but i dont feel despair or crushed...i know this is part of the path. its like an invigorating mountain climb that you get lost on, but always knowing you were meant to reach the peak, and that you will, eventually.
well, internet access is really a relative term. as in not really available. at all. and then there was the computer crash incident of this morning as i attempted to download obamas speech for an english class plan tomorrow. sometimes i forget im in nicaragua and get upset, and then i get over it.
some simple joys lately
- always having enough. be it a teeny ounce of energy to finish a plan, 5 minutes more that help me be on time, one last piece of chocolate, that last 20 cord bill that meets my needs, and always the grace to make it through.
- appreciating the cool climate that greets me after a sweaty dusty day in managua
- being called prof sara by people i dont know
- limonada con soda. absolutely refreshing
- people that go out of their way to help me and appreciation when i do the same
- someone who is constantly thinking of me and supporting me wherever i am, no matter how tired or busy he is
- a new bed
- some fantastic books involving an asian background...distant land of my father, memoirs of a geisha
- the numerous beautiful eyes that smile up at me as i pass by them at my school
- the fine frenzy
- a well-timed word from the Word
- hope of something bigger than myself
- knowing my path is already known and secure, even though there may be moments when it doesnt feel like either of those things
- simple kindness
my days are running together with the simple thread of teaching, and im exhausted. but i dont feel despair or crushed...i know this is part of the path. its like an invigorating mountain climb that you get lost on, but always knowing you were meant to reach the peak, and that you will, eventually.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
cold fingers
wow. its hard to imagine how many things can happen in just a short little month. here are some highlights...and trust me, this string of crappy blogs will end soon...i miss writing more than you realize.
christmas in la batea in a few words: ridiculous amounts of food, rain, crazy kids, beautiful landscapes, hard conversations, good laughs, culture clashing....insert story here: it was close to the end of the trip and i had gotten a wicked cold, exhausted and feverish, i awoke to blaring music. mind you, this is a tiny farming town...why on earth should there be horrificly loud techno in the street? i half realized it was a drunken and drugged up neighbor and i marched myself out into the street in my shorts and side slung ponytail, demanding in spanish who lived here in this awful house with this awful music...the guy just kind of stared at me, standing in the street until i started talking to him...asked him to turn it down, as, surprise, the whole town along with his wife and kid were asleep and didnt need to be awakened. and then he got very very upset. and began to yell at me about how we were not in the states, but in nicaragua, where we do what we want. i calmly explained to him that i had been here since may and that it was not that way in all of nicaragua and that where it was was where there were problems...i asked him again to turn down the music and went inside, finally realizing what the heck i was doing and getting a little nervous...then to my pleasure, i heard him hollering about how i needed to realize i wasnt in america but in nicaragua...and to help me learn, he played typical nicaraguan music for two more hours, while he shouted and hollered the same phrase over and over again, and shot off his pistol. I havent felt that embarrassed and yet entertained in a long time....end story, beautiful parks, a good book, and new levels of friendships. just as a start.
new job in a few words: my home, accepted, enjoyment, overwhelming, exhausting, good, where i need to be.
more writing coming soon...my internet access is blowing wide open with the new school.
christmas in la batea in a few words: ridiculous amounts of food, rain, crazy kids, beautiful landscapes, hard conversations, good laughs, culture clashing....insert story here: it was close to the end of the trip and i had gotten a wicked cold, exhausted and feverish, i awoke to blaring music. mind you, this is a tiny farming town...why on earth should there be horrificly loud techno in the street? i half realized it was a drunken and drugged up neighbor and i marched myself out into the street in my shorts and side slung ponytail, demanding in spanish who lived here in this awful house with this awful music...the guy just kind of stared at me, standing in the street until i started talking to him...asked him to turn it down, as, surprise, the whole town along with his wife and kid were asleep and didnt need to be awakened. and then he got very very upset. and began to yell at me about how we were not in the states, but in nicaragua, where we do what we want. i calmly explained to him that i had been here since may and that it was not that way in all of nicaragua and that where it was was where there were problems...i asked him again to turn down the music and went inside, finally realizing what the heck i was doing and getting a little nervous...then to my pleasure, i heard him hollering about how i needed to realize i wasnt in america but in nicaragua...and to help me learn, he played typical nicaraguan music for two more hours, while he shouted and hollered the same phrase over and over again, and shot off his pistol. I havent felt that embarrassed and yet entertained in a long time....end story, beautiful parks, a good book, and new levels of friendships. just as a start.
new job in a few words: my home, accepted, enjoyment, overwhelming, exhausting, good, where i need to be.
more writing coming soon...my internet access is blowing wide open with the new school.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
decision
peace corps and i will part ways tomorrow. i just got back from an interesting exchange at the border, allowing me to stay here for three months more while i wait on residency papers. in january i will start community classes and training for my new school. feb 2 i will begin teaching my new students. i leave sunday for a tiny town called La Batea to spend a traditional nicaraguan christmas with moises. i couldnt feel more blessed.
sometimes your path just changes...and you dont know why or really know where you are going. but ive learned that to go back or to try to ignore the path doesnt help...im learning to enjoy exploring this path im on.
merry christmas to you all...its 85 degrees here. :)
sometimes your path just changes...and you dont know why or really know where you are going. but ive learned that to go back or to try to ignore the path doesnt help...im learning to enjoy exploring this path im on.
merry christmas to you all...its 85 degrees here. :)
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
i´ve been thinking about you lately...
December 8, 2008
A few snapshots of the journey. I have been kind of deliberately closed lately because of a decision I must make. My path in Nicaragua is splitting and I must choose which road to take. I will have the answers this week I am hoping and will then be able to explain more fully where I am at. In the meantime, here’s some snapshots of what I’ve been up to.
HOME
Yep, I went home. For 5ish days for my best friend’s wedding. It was just unreal. The lack of sleep and overwhelmingness that is the US and seeing people who know you deeply kept me fairly numb. I watched my best friend’s eyes flash in the realization of the huge decision she was making, met my nephew face to face and reconnected with my niece, ate tons of food that I love but found it was not as satisfying as I had always imagined, and just hugged and hugged the people I love. I felt hollowed out yet filled up all at the same time. It was this bizarre experience, like I had never left and yet fully aware that my life was going on in another country. I believe I have started a journey in which I will be a citizen of two worlds, two places. Part of that makes me uncomfortable and I want to pretend that it isn’t happening. But when I realized on my flight back to Managua that I kept referring to it as home, I knew that I had really created a place here. This is the first home I have made for myself without roommates or family members, and all on a foreign soil. It’s just kind of odd. I look forward to having people come visit me so they can see this life I live here. I remember thinking about Nicaragua before I came and I could not imagine what the day in day out looked like – I had nowhere to connect their experience. But I am finding it is not that much different than my life back home, and I know you will all feel welcome here.
CHINCHES
Summer has arrived, which you know has me rejoicing. But this summer comes in with a transition time in El Crucero. It’s still chilly here because of the immense wind that kicks up all the time, but at least it is sunny and dry. However, there is a new plague to study: chinches. These little squarish bugs that buzz loudly, smell awful and burn your skin if they pee on you. Which is not an unlikely occurrence. Because of where my house is situated, the chinches congregate on the walls and roof of my house. And it is disgusting and slightly terrifying. It’s not too bad until they get in your house or you want to wash your clothes outside in the lavadera. I’m hoping this fierce wind will blow them all away. In the meantime, I’ve gotten really handy with my heart-shaped flyswatter.
UNFURL
About a year ago, I wrote a post about roots, talking about this yearning to put down roots and grow into the community around me, but feeling the restraint and inability to do so. I knew I was coming to a foreign place, and knew I could not sink too deep into the things I was involved with in KC. Yesterday, as I watched the faces of my Nicaraguan brothers and sister, laughing and talking, shifting as the cold wind sliced through our outside party, my heart swelled with thanksgiving. I am putting down roots. I am learning this people, and they are slowly becoming my people. Though we are very different in many ways, there is this commonality found in Christ that just blows my mind. I have been embraced, accepted, made a part of. And I find this rich freedom to grow all that I can, to embrace all that I am receiving and to dig down deep as I unfurl. I’m not talking about literally putting down roots, like I am going to live here forever, but that blessed feeling of giving of yourself, to let yourself become part of the community you find yourself in. It is amazing to be a part of these people’s lives.
KIM EDWARDS
I just finished the most beautiful book. It is called the Memory Keeper’s Daughter, and it is this amazing study of how a human’s desire to protect through concealing leads to more harm they could have ever imagined. It was a tragic story but one that was rich in imagery and the poignancy of raw emotions, emotions we tend to gloss over or renamed. What could have been so trite or flat became this deep ocean of people interacting, and watching the ripples of each action shaping the story. Not just a good read, but something to consider. How often have I exchanged the truth for a lie in the name of comfort or political correctness or simple embarrassment? I forget that my actions have consequences and each should be weighed carefully, considering the people it will impact and the outcome. Definitely a heavy book, but one that I found to be refreshing.
JOY OF GIVING
Curving masks glittered in the fading sunlight above missing teeth and goosebumped flesh. Laughter rang out among the whistling wind as the children waited somewhat patiently in their plastic seats. We were having a birthday party with some 70+ people. Our church works with a group of kids down at km 32, where a large number of families live in extreme poverty. The goal is simple – to show love and lend a hand to people who are hungry. Yesterday was a particularly special time because the boss of one of our church members had decided to celebrate her son’s 8th birthday with our group of children, knowing they would not be receiving gifts for Christmas or their birthdays. There were two huge piñatas and massive amounts of food, soda, candy and toys. The hunger in these kids’ eyes was heartbreaking as they clustered impatiently in their lines to receive. But the thing I saw shining out over the heaviness of poverty was the sheer joy our youth and this woman’s family had in giving. I sat and watched the birthday boy Cid as he stood before
A few snapshots of the journey. I have been kind of deliberately closed lately because of a decision I must make. My path in Nicaragua is splitting and I must choose which road to take. I will have the answers this week I am hoping and will then be able to explain more fully where I am at. In the meantime, here’s some snapshots of what I’ve been up to.
HOME
Yep, I went home. For 5ish days for my best friend’s wedding. It was just unreal. The lack of sleep and overwhelmingness that is the US and seeing people who know you deeply kept me fairly numb. I watched my best friend’s eyes flash in the realization of the huge decision she was making, met my nephew face to face and reconnected with my niece, ate tons of food that I love but found it was not as satisfying as I had always imagined, and just hugged and hugged the people I love. I felt hollowed out yet filled up all at the same time. It was this bizarre experience, like I had never left and yet fully aware that my life was going on in another country. I believe I have started a journey in which I will be a citizen of two worlds, two places. Part of that makes me uncomfortable and I want to pretend that it isn’t happening. But when I realized on my flight back to Managua that I kept referring to it as home, I knew that I had really created a place here. This is the first home I have made for myself without roommates or family members, and all on a foreign soil. It’s just kind of odd. I look forward to having people come visit me so they can see this life I live here. I remember thinking about Nicaragua before I came and I could not imagine what the day in day out looked like – I had nowhere to connect their experience. But I am finding it is not that much different than my life back home, and I know you will all feel welcome here.
CHINCHES
Summer has arrived, which you know has me rejoicing. But this summer comes in with a transition time in El Crucero. It’s still chilly here because of the immense wind that kicks up all the time, but at least it is sunny and dry. However, there is a new plague to study: chinches. These little squarish bugs that buzz loudly, smell awful and burn your skin if they pee on you. Which is not an unlikely occurrence. Because of where my house is situated, the chinches congregate on the walls and roof of my house. And it is disgusting and slightly terrifying. It’s not too bad until they get in your house or you want to wash your clothes outside in the lavadera. I’m hoping this fierce wind will blow them all away. In the meantime, I’ve gotten really handy with my heart-shaped flyswatter.
UNFURL
About a year ago, I wrote a post about roots, talking about this yearning to put down roots and grow into the community around me, but feeling the restraint and inability to do so. I knew I was coming to a foreign place, and knew I could not sink too deep into the things I was involved with in KC. Yesterday, as I watched the faces of my Nicaraguan brothers and sister, laughing and talking, shifting as the cold wind sliced through our outside party, my heart swelled with thanksgiving. I am putting down roots. I am learning this people, and they are slowly becoming my people. Though we are very different in many ways, there is this commonality found in Christ that just blows my mind. I have been embraced, accepted, made a part of. And I find this rich freedom to grow all that I can, to embrace all that I am receiving and to dig down deep as I unfurl. I’m not talking about literally putting down roots, like I am going to live here forever, but that blessed feeling of giving of yourself, to let yourself become part of the community you find yourself in. It is amazing to be a part of these people’s lives.
KIM EDWARDS
I just finished the most beautiful book. It is called the Memory Keeper’s Daughter, and it is this amazing study of how a human’s desire to protect through concealing leads to more harm they could have ever imagined. It was a tragic story but one that was rich in imagery and the poignancy of raw emotions, emotions we tend to gloss over or renamed. What could have been so trite or flat became this deep ocean of people interacting, and watching the ripples of each action shaping the story. Not just a good read, but something to consider. How often have I exchanged the truth for a lie in the name of comfort or political correctness or simple embarrassment? I forget that my actions have consequences and each should be weighed carefully, considering the people it will impact and the outcome. Definitely a heavy book, but one that I found to be refreshing.
JOY OF GIVING
Curving masks glittered in the fading sunlight above missing teeth and goosebumped flesh. Laughter rang out among the whistling wind as the children waited somewhat patiently in their plastic seats. We were having a birthday party with some 70+ people. Our church works with a group of kids down at km 32, where a large number of families live in extreme poverty. The goal is simple – to show love and lend a hand to people who are hungry. Yesterday was a particularly special time because the boss of one of our church members had decided to celebrate her son’s 8th birthday with our group of children, knowing they would not be receiving gifts for Christmas or their birthdays. There were two huge piñatas and massive amounts of food, soda, candy and toys. The hunger in these kids’ eyes was heartbreaking as they clustered impatiently in their lines to receive. But the thing I saw shining out over the heaviness of poverty was the sheer joy our youth and this woman’s family had in giving. I sat and watched the birthday boy Cid as he stood before
Monday, November 3, 2008
and the sun arose
October 20: Birds (This happened a few weeks back, just forgot to write it in)
Warning: If your name is Steph Moore, you may want to skip this post.
It was a perfectly normal Tuesday morning for me, nothing out of the ordinary. I had woken up on time, thrown my hair up into its sopping wet twist, eaten my toast with jelly while chatting with Graciella and entered into my damp classroom. And there it was…this feathery, sticky mess hanging from the zinc roof rafters. A dead bird, stuffed to the gills with wispy white cotton. Was this a prank? Did they hold a taxidermy class while I was teaching in the other school? I looked wide-eyed at all the students, but no one was reacting, no one had the same look of disbelief that I had. My co-teacher walked in grinning, with a student at his side. “It’s good, yea?” he said to me. “What on earth is it??” I asked. He explained that it was for a science project. The student at his left had shot the bird was in the process of stuffing it to get it ready for the next class. So while I taught some nonsense about the structure of “be supposed to” to express intended activity, the student and his girlfriend continued stuffing the bird, using plastic baggies from tajada(a really tasty fried green plantain chip and salad snack) the day before and using their jackets tied around their faces against the smell. It’s moments like this that make me wonder why on earth am I teaching English. I guess so he could tell his teacher (should she speak English) “I was supposed to stuff the dead bird last night, but I didn’t have time…I was doing my English homework.”
The Inner Workings of Poverty
After much thought and deliberation, I’ve narrowed the cause of poverty here to two main things. I know, you all think you already know, but I am confident you have not thought of these two things. They are gift-giving and cell phones. Yep. First, everyone is always giving gifts and expected to give gifts, no matter the lack of money or the viability of a person liking or using a gift. Food is given often and it is considered kind of inconsiderate to go to town or to the store and not bring back something tasty. This, obviously, whittles away your wallet and makes people like me, who are cordoba counters and peso pinchers, feel uncomfortable. But I am learning to loosen up and balance the giving…plus its really nice to receive, too. And cell phones. First, it is RIDICULOUS to buy minutes here. You pay for one dollar of credit, which is 20 – 22 cords, and that only is available to you to use for two or three days. And you won’t get that much out of it because one minute uses a lot of cents. And if you are calling Movistar from Claro, forget it. Then there are the overly priced cell phones that these people buy without hesitation and often on credit. 200 to 300 DOLLARS people. Dollars. And they don’t keep them long, selling the ones they have and buying others, not gaining a profit but always spending. People here are incredulous that I have a phone without camera, video, MP3’s and it only cost me 15 dollars. They seriously don’t believe me. So I’ve decided that the way to solve Nicaragua poverty, at least here in El Crucero is to buy a monton of cell phones in the states and give them away here. And then we will all be able to buy more soda and I will have solved a developmental problem in a cultural sensitive way.
HOPE: October 20ish.
“I see hope as an attitude where everything stays open before me...daring to stay open to whatever will come to me today, tomorrow, two months from now, or a year from now--that is hope. to go fearlessly into things without knowing how they'll turn out, to keep on going, even when something doesn't work the first time, to trust in whatever you're doing--that is living with hope."
--henri nouwen
This quote knocked me off my feet when I read it in a gchat last week. Good stuff.
TORTILLAS
It´s official, I am pure Nica and able to marry. Or so they tell me. I really like fresh made tortillas and I finally asked Graciella to show me how. It´s really simple, just water and Maseca, but the art is in the palming of the tortilla on a plastic bag cut into a circle. There must be force, making the palming sound, and there must be care, creating a perfectly round tortilla. Then you must be careful when cooking it on the iron disc over the flame-leave it too long and it burns, not long enough and it will be doughy. And then there is the puffiness. After the second turn, you push on the tortilla on the iron plate and the dough puffs. Really well made tortillas will puff entirely and are a beautiful golden color. I have found I really enjoy this tortilla making and have been thoroughly embarrassed by it. All sorts of whistling and oyes! and photo taking on cameras accompanied me on my first and second tries. Now they just ask me to do it and tell me that Im pura nica because of how I make tortillas. Who knew I could become a citizen with my tortilla making skills? Someone should tell Napoleon Dynamite.
Warning: If your name is Steph Moore, you may want to skip this post.
It was a perfectly normal Tuesday morning for me, nothing out of the ordinary. I had woken up on time, thrown my hair up into its sopping wet twist, eaten my toast with jelly while chatting with Graciella and entered into my damp classroom. And there it was…this feathery, sticky mess hanging from the zinc roof rafters. A dead bird, stuffed to the gills with wispy white cotton. Was this a prank? Did they hold a taxidermy class while I was teaching in the other school? I looked wide-eyed at all the students, but no one was reacting, no one had the same look of disbelief that I had. My co-teacher walked in grinning, with a student at his side. “It’s good, yea?” he said to me. “What on earth is it??” I asked. He explained that it was for a science project. The student at his left had shot the bird was in the process of stuffing it to get it ready for the next class. So while I taught some nonsense about the structure of “be supposed to” to express intended activity, the student and his girlfriend continued stuffing the bird, using plastic baggies from tajada(a really tasty fried green plantain chip and salad snack) the day before and using their jackets tied around their faces against the smell. It’s moments like this that make me wonder why on earth am I teaching English. I guess so he could tell his teacher (should she speak English) “I was supposed to stuff the dead bird last night, but I didn’t have time…I was doing my English homework.”
The Inner Workings of Poverty
After much thought and deliberation, I’ve narrowed the cause of poverty here to two main things. I know, you all think you already know, but I am confident you have not thought of these two things. They are gift-giving and cell phones. Yep. First, everyone is always giving gifts and expected to give gifts, no matter the lack of money or the viability of a person liking or using a gift. Food is given often and it is considered kind of inconsiderate to go to town or to the store and not bring back something tasty. This, obviously, whittles away your wallet and makes people like me, who are cordoba counters and peso pinchers, feel uncomfortable. But I am learning to loosen up and balance the giving…plus its really nice to receive, too. And cell phones. First, it is RIDICULOUS to buy minutes here. You pay for one dollar of credit, which is 20 – 22 cords, and that only is available to you to use for two or three days. And you won’t get that much out of it because one minute uses a lot of cents. And if you are calling Movistar from Claro, forget it. Then there are the overly priced cell phones that these people buy without hesitation and often on credit. 200 to 300 DOLLARS people. Dollars. And they don’t keep them long, selling the ones they have and buying others, not gaining a profit but always spending. People here are incredulous that I have a phone without camera, video, MP3’s and it only cost me 15 dollars. They seriously don’t believe me. So I’ve decided that the way to solve Nicaragua poverty, at least here in El Crucero is to buy a monton of cell phones in the states and give them away here. And then we will all be able to buy more soda and I will have solved a developmental problem in a cultural sensitive way.
HOPE: October 20ish.
“I see hope as an attitude where everything stays open before me...daring to stay open to whatever will come to me today, tomorrow, two months from now, or a year from now--that is hope. to go fearlessly into things without knowing how they'll turn out, to keep on going, even when something doesn't work the first time, to trust in whatever you're doing--that is living with hope."
--henri nouwen
This quote knocked me off my feet when I read it in a gchat last week. Good stuff.
TORTILLAS
It´s official, I am pure Nica and able to marry. Or so they tell me. I really like fresh made tortillas and I finally asked Graciella to show me how. It´s really simple, just water and Maseca, but the art is in the palming of the tortilla on a plastic bag cut into a circle. There must be force, making the palming sound, and there must be care, creating a perfectly round tortilla. Then you must be careful when cooking it on the iron disc over the flame-leave it too long and it burns, not long enough and it will be doughy. And then there is the puffiness. After the second turn, you push on the tortilla on the iron plate and the dough puffs. Really well made tortillas will puff entirely and are a beautiful golden color. I have found I really enjoy this tortilla making and have been thoroughly embarrassed by it. All sorts of whistling and oyes! and photo taking on cameras accompanied me on my first and second tries. Now they just ask me to do it and tell me that Im pura nica because of how I make tortillas. Who knew I could become a citizen with my tortilla making skills? Someone should tell Napoleon Dynamite.
Friday, October 10, 2008
ok...some real posts
Depth: October 2
As I rush to write this experience down, my cheeks are damp with tears. Today was one of those days. The questions, the doubts that crouch in the corners of your mind coming out full force. The weariness palpable on your skin. My ojos gatitos dulled by the clouds and rising fear. But then I went to Jinotepe. Did my shopping and errand running, determined to enjoy my free day tomorrow….plus I had a package. This package is what I want to talk about. I opened the yellow envelope with the familiar simple jaunty lettering letting me know that it was my precious sister friend Lauren…what I saw inside made me weep, huge tears falling. First was the tiny soap and lotion in Jasmine….just as I was desperately missing scents. Two bags of chocolate, almond M&M’’s and dove dark chocolate. I am a FANATIC of dove dark chocolate and couldn’t believe I was privileged enough to receive such a treat here in Nicaragua. Then came the shirt. The beautiful royal blue shirt with golden lettering that says “Someone in Kansas Loves Me”. I just buried my streaming eyes into it, struck through by the memories of how much you all back home love me. That you are walking this out with me, no matter how far away you are, that I am deeply and well-loved by all of you. This realization almost always is followed up by a wave of regret, a wistful wondering of why I left what was so good…but then came the card and the first Dove chocolate. “I believe in you” declared the envelope and precious words touched my heart within…including this Mary Oliver verse called Praying
“It doesn’t have to be the blue iris, it could be weeds in a vacant lot, or a few small stones; just pay attention, then patch a few words together and don’t try to make them elaborate, this isn’t a contest but the doorway into thanks, and a silence in which another voice might speak.”
And in case I was still having doubts, the first dove chocolate read “Learn to say I Love You in another language” and the second said “Slow down, take notice, savor the moment.” Seeing as I am learning to say I love you in Spanish to someone very dear to me and I get to take tomorrow to rest, I had to just laugh and realize that even more than you all love me; I am loved beyond my wildest imaginations by an amazing and perfect Father and Lover. Thank you Jesus.
PS: Thank you so much to my dear friends Lauren, Jen, Luke, Sara, Brenna, and Missy…and my Mama of course…who have taken the time and effort to put together little packages or long letters…there is something indescribably rich about receiving these love tokens and I adore writing three or fours days on a letter and shipping it back…there’s something more intimate, more real for me, in communicating this way. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
A good cook?: October 4
There is something I feel I have to wrestle with in a public forum…my food dilemma here in Nicaragua. Back home, I loved to cook and try new recipes, and considered myself a good cook, for the most part. I knew how to make a variety of dishes and could mix and match dishes to complement each other. But here, I feel like a novice who is uncomfortable with the kitchen, and honestly, I can’t remember what I made back home. Part of the problem obviously is just the different products available and the different approaches to cooking. Also the bare resources I have…both in money to buy food and the lack of multiple cooking pans and utensils, as well as the current dilemma of having no gas, so everything I make must be made in my electric frying pan. This greatly changes the dynamics…but I digress. First of all, I suck at making rice. I have made multiple horrific messes (including one disastrous attempt today to make Chinese fried rice) and am always timid to try again. I never made rice much in the states and if I did, it was as a small side to the meal, never the main food. Here, it is this grimacing foe, taunting me to conquer it because it knows I need it to make it through my week on my food budget…yet I keep skipping around it. Plus, to me, plain rice is not a good food option. I could, of course, make gallo pinto, but this involves making the rice (a 30 minute process that may or may not have to be redone), then removing the rice to put to the side and making the beans, taking another 2 hours or so to cook, then draining those beans and frying them with a little oil and garlic…then adding the rice back in and stirring it all together. Too many variables and being unsure of quantities to make as well. So I look for another route, eatings lots of eggs with onion and “bell peppers”- which are miniature versions of bell peppers back home and only available in green- with some precious cheddar cheese sprinkled on top, quesadillas, sometimes pasta with just sauce, and the occasional meal I get invited to at a nica table. Oh, and LOTS of wheat bread toasted with fruit jam…this week it’s guava. As you may begin to wonder as I am, what kind of damage am I doing to my body? In the states, I was careful to get my daily allowance of vegetables and fruits, snacking on baby carrots and apples, snagging grapes and bananas on my way to classes, and tossing in corn, green beans and bell pepper into any dish I happened to be making. But I don’t have any of those aforementioned options, except bananas, and I also don’t have the variety of sauces, meal helpers, skinless, boneless chicken breasts, or many of the other items in Dillon’s I used to rely on. I’m realizing I’m not much of a cook at all, just someone who didn’t realize how wonderful all the meal supplements and varieties at her fingers were. Plus the fact that to get the things you may need for a meal require trekking up to the pulperia, which they won’t have everything you need, so you go to the next one, and inevitably, some of the produce you so diligently bought will go bad before you can use it. I know I’ll get the hang of it eventually, I just feel a little lost right now. And I know I’m gonna cry the next time I walk into a supermarket in the States.
One little victory I have is learning how to make bean soup here successfully…it consists of cooked red beans, blended up and added to water, tomato, onion and bell pepper slightly sautéed, cream, beaten egg that cooks super fast when it hits the soup, and lime juice. It is absolutely tasty, protein rich, and fairly easy though time consuming to make…I’ll make you some when I come home to visit.
Arrival : October 5
Well, it happened. I finally miss the US. Don’t get me wrong, I have been missing my family and friends and various aspects of my life beforehand, since I stepped on the plane to DC back in May. I’m talking about the US in general, the things we have available, ideals we hold, etc. First, I miss having enough. I struggled with money in college just like most people and was not a wealthy person. But I never felt the tightness of poverty like we feel it here. Simply being able to walk into a store and find everything I wanted and more and probably be able to pay for it as well, is a luxury. I had the option of ordering a pizza if I wanted, and could enjoy lots of little comforts along the way – the soda or coffee when I filled up my gas tank, the night out with friends, the rented movie, the scented candle I picked up at the store, the new book or magazine. Those are not possibilities here, or if they are they are so expensive it is not possible to buy them. Being paid in dollars had an advantage and living in the land of plenty was wonderful. Then there are the attitudes about teaching and learning. Good grief. The differences are stark and frustrating because I can’t figure out how to get from where I am to where they are and back. I find myself letting things just stay the way they are, then realizing my own apathy and floundering to do something about it. There is a struggle to connect the big vision with my everyday here. And my everyday is winning…and this, to me, feels like a failure of the big vision. It’s too big to tackle in one day, but I feel like if I am not continually doing something with the big idea everyday, its never going to get done. In the US, the big vision is always the controller, the pusher behind students, professionals, artists, etc. It’s this bigger idea that I have somewhere I am going…here, that idea of vision is hard to communicate and even less understood. The ideas about equality and equal partnership are still a long way from being developed here. Machismo – nothing I have to say there…maybe in the States the men are just as caught up in women’s looks and have their own closed minded ideas of what we are capable of, but at least they keep it to themselves and may not even let their ideas affect their interaction with us. Here, that is not going to happen for a while. We seriously have a privileged life in the US…I am aware of our many messy and shameful parts as well, especially with the current economic crisis, and who knows what’s going to happen with the presidential race or the war in Iraq. But there are some deep fundamental things about my country that I miss a lot right now. As a person who was secretly disgusted by much of her country, this is a big deal for me to realize I miss living in the US.
Lucha: October 8
When I began this journey, the most obvious thing I was attempting was the Peace Corps. But more apparent and more important to me was the decision to stop living in fear. I’m not talking about the physical reaction of fear to things that are harmful and can be helpful in protecting us. Rather, the fear that stems out of distrust and pains and old wounds…this fear acts as a chain to your soul, keeping you from putting yourself too deep into relationships, drives you to be self-protective and in general can be a hindrance to many of the good things in life. Darwin may have said this was simply my survival instincts kicking in, things that are natural and are necessary to my own well-being. But I know better. I know that what looked like a decision to be serious about my studies was simple fear of being hurt and left behind. That every busy hour I loaded onto myself was done out of fear of failure, fear of not matching up and thus being left behind. I am not proud to say that many of my actions can be traced back to a root fear of abandonment, failure, or rejection. When I decided to join Peace Corps, it was a choice to begin facing these fears, to stop letting these things dictate my life. Only now am I realizing that the PC decision was only the first step inside the door, and this long hallway is filled with some of the oldest and controlling fears in my heart, waiting to be confronted. And good gracious, is it ever uncomfortable. And I don’t want to do it. But I have realized how precious it is to love others and be loved by others….and so I press forward. I’m going to fall a lot, but I feel ready to make my choices, to choose love and gentle openness over fear and closed fists.
1 John 4:18
There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.
1 Peter 3:6b
You are her (Sarah) daughters if you do what is right and do not give way to fear.
Time Warp: October 10
So I’m here in Granada on an impromptu vacay day, visiting some fellow PCV’s…yes the initial allure did involve the Office. Which brings me to my title. So I get here, all jazzed up to see American TV, ate some delicious pizza and we settled in to watch the show. LOVED it, but here was the weird part…left during a commercial break to get a snack down the street at the pulperia, and had to go to another one. But in my mind, this took 2 minutes, tops. When I came back, the show was OVER! O-V-E-R. And I was absolutely dumbfounded by the difference of time, here and there. When in the states, a half hour is a long time. Here a half hour is next to nothing, easily spent walking to and from a destination, half of a bus ride, etc. It just made me laugh how different my time clock has become since living here.
As I rush to write this experience down, my cheeks are damp with tears. Today was one of those days. The questions, the doubts that crouch in the corners of your mind coming out full force. The weariness palpable on your skin. My ojos gatitos dulled by the clouds and rising fear. But then I went to Jinotepe. Did my shopping and errand running, determined to enjoy my free day tomorrow….plus I had a package. This package is what I want to talk about. I opened the yellow envelope with the familiar simple jaunty lettering letting me know that it was my precious sister friend Lauren…what I saw inside made me weep, huge tears falling. First was the tiny soap and lotion in Jasmine….just as I was desperately missing scents. Two bags of chocolate, almond M&M’’s and dove dark chocolate. I am a FANATIC of dove dark chocolate and couldn’t believe I was privileged enough to receive such a treat here in Nicaragua. Then came the shirt. The beautiful royal blue shirt with golden lettering that says “Someone in Kansas Loves Me”. I just buried my streaming eyes into it, struck through by the memories of how much you all back home love me. That you are walking this out with me, no matter how far away you are, that I am deeply and well-loved by all of you. This realization almost always is followed up by a wave of regret, a wistful wondering of why I left what was so good…but then came the card and the first Dove chocolate. “I believe in you” declared the envelope and precious words touched my heart within…including this Mary Oliver verse called Praying
“It doesn’t have to be the blue iris, it could be weeds in a vacant lot, or a few small stones; just pay attention, then patch a few words together and don’t try to make them elaborate, this isn’t a contest but the doorway into thanks, and a silence in which another voice might speak.”
And in case I was still having doubts, the first dove chocolate read “Learn to say I Love You in another language” and the second said “Slow down, take notice, savor the moment.” Seeing as I am learning to say I love you in Spanish to someone very dear to me and I get to take tomorrow to rest, I had to just laugh and realize that even more than you all love me; I am loved beyond my wildest imaginations by an amazing and perfect Father and Lover. Thank you Jesus.
PS: Thank you so much to my dear friends Lauren, Jen, Luke, Sara, Brenna, and Missy…and my Mama of course…who have taken the time and effort to put together little packages or long letters…there is something indescribably rich about receiving these love tokens and I adore writing three or fours days on a letter and shipping it back…there’s something more intimate, more real for me, in communicating this way. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
A good cook?: October 4
There is something I feel I have to wrestle with in a public forum…my food dilemma here in Nicaragua. Back home, I loved to cook and try new recipes, and considered myself a good cook, for the most part. I knew how to make a variety of dishes and could mix and match dishes to complement each other. But here, I feel like a novice who is uncomfortable with the kitchen, and honestly, I can’t remember what I made back home. Part of the problem obviously is just the different products available and the different approaches to cooking. Also the bare resources I have…both in money to buy food and the lack of multiple cooking pans and utensils, as well as the current dilemma of having no gas, so everything I make must be made in my electric frying pan. This greatly changes the dynamics…but I digress. First of all, I suck at making rice. I have made multiple horrific messes (including one disastrous attempt today to make Chinese fried rice) and am always timid to try again. I never made rice much in the states and if I did, it was as a small side to the meal, never the main food. Here, it is this grimacing foe, taunting me to conquer it because it knows I need it to make it through my week on my food budget…yet I keep skipping around it. Plus, to me, plain rice is not a good food option. I could, of course, make gallo pinto, but this involves making the rice (a 30 minute process that may or may not have to be redone), then removing the rice to put to the side and making the beans, taking another 2 hours or so to cook, then draining those beans and frying them with a little oil and garlic…then adding the rice back in and stirring it all together. Too many variables and being unsure of quantities to make as well. So I look for another route, eatings lots of eggs with onion and “bell peppers”- which are miniature versions of bell peppers back home and only available in green- with some precious cheddar cheese sprinkled on top, quesadillas, sometimes pasta with just sauce, and the occasional meal I get invited to at a nica table. Oh, and LOTS of wheat bread toasted with fruit jam…this week it’s guava. As you may begin to wonder as I am, what kind of damage am I doing to my body? In the states, I was careful to get my daily allowance of vegetables and fruits, snacking on baby carrots and apples, snagging grapes and bananas on my way to classes, and tossing in corn, green beans and bell pepper into any dish I happened to be making. But I don’t have any of those aforementioned options, except bananas, and I also don’t have the variety of sauces, meal helpers, skinless, boneless chicken breasts, or many of the other items in Dillon’s I used to rely on. I’m realizing I’m not much of a cook at all, just someone who didn’t realize how wonderful all the meal supplements and varieties at her fingers were. Plus the fact that to get the things you may need for a meal require trekking up to the pulperia, which they won’t have everything you need, so you go to the next one, and inevitably, some of the produce you so diligently bought will go bad before you can use it. I know I’ll get the hang of it eventually, I just feel a little lost right now. And I know I’m gonna cry the next time I walk into a supermarket in the States.
One little victory I have is learning how to make bean soup here successfully…it consists of cooked red beans, blended up and added to water, tomato, onion and bell pepper slightly sautéed, cream, beaten egg that cooks super fast when it hits the soup, and lime juice. It is absolutely tasty, protein rich, and fairly easy though time consuming to make…I’ll make you some when I come home to visit.
Arrival : October 5
Well, it happened. I finally miss the US. Don’t get me wrong, I have been missing my family and friends and various aspects of my life beforehand, since I stepped on the plane to DC back in May. I’m talking about the US in general, the things we have available, ideals we hold, etc. First, I miss having enough. I struggled with money in college just like most people and was not a wealthy person. But I never felt the tightness of poverty like we feel it here. Simply being able to walk into a store and find everything I wanted and more and probably be able to pay for it as well, is a luxury. I had the option of ordering a pizza if I wanted, and could enjoy lots of little comforts along the way – the soda or coffee when I filled up my gas tank, the night out with friends, the rented movie, the scented candle I picked up at the store, the new book or magazine. Those are not possibilities here, or if they are they are so expensive it is not possible to buy them. Being paid in dollars had an advantage and living in the land of plenty was wonderful. Then there are the attitudes about teaching and learning. Good grief. The differences are stark and frustrating because I can’t figure out how to get from where I am to where they are and back. I find myself letting things just stay the way they are, then realizing my own apathy and floundering to do something about it. There is a struggle to connect the big vision with my everyday here. And my everyday is winning…and this, to me, feels like a failure of the big vision. It’s too big to tackle in one day, but I feel like if I am not continually doing something with the big idea everyday, its never going to get done. In the US, the big vision is always the controller, the pusher behind students, professionals, artists, etc. It’s this bigger idea that I have somewhere I am going…here, that idea of vision is hard to communicate and even less understood. The ideas about equality and equal partnership are still a long way from being developed here. Machismo – nothing I have to say there…maybe in the States the men are just as caught up in women’s looks and have their own closed minded ideas of what we are capable of, but at least they keep it to themselves and may not even let their ideas affect their interaction with us. Here, that is not going to happen for a while. We seriously have a privileged life in the US…I am aware of our many messy and shameful parts as well, especially with the current economic crisis, and who knows what’s going to happen with the presidential race or the war in Iraq. But there are some deep fundamental things about my country that I miss a lot right now. As a person who was secretly disgusted by much of her country, this is a big deal for me to realize I miss living in the US.
Lucha: October 8
When I began this journey, the most obvious thing I was attempting was the Peace Corps. But more apparent and more important to me was the decision to stop living in fear. I’m not talking about the physical reaction of fear to things that are harmful and can be helpful in protecting us. Rather, the fear that stems out of distrust and pains and old wounds…this fear acts as a chain to your soul, keeping you from putting yourself too deep into relationships, drives you to be self-protective and in general can be a hindrance to many of the good things in life. Darwin may have said this was simply my survival instincts kicking in, things that are natural and are necessary to my own well-being. But I know better. I know that what looked like a decision to be serious about my studies was simple fear of being hurt and left behind. That every busy hour I loaded onto myself was done out of fear of failure, fear of not matching up and thus being left behind. I am not proud to say that many of my actions can be traced back to a root fear of abandonment, failure, or rejection. When I decided to join Peace Corps, it was a choice to begin facing these fears, to stop letting these things dictate my life. Only now am I realizing that the PC decision was only the first step inside the door, and this long hallway is filled with some of the oldest and controlling fears in my heart, waiting to be confronted. And good gracious, is it ever uncomfortable. And I don’t want to do it. But I have realized how precious it is to love others and be loved by others….and so I press forward. I’m going to fall a lot, but I feel ready to make my choices, to choose love and gentle openness over fear and closed fists.
1 John 4:18
There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.
1 Peter 3:6b
You are her (Sarah) daughters if you do what is right and do not give way to fear.
Time Warp: October 10
So I’m here in Granada on an impromptu vacay day, visiting some fellow PCV’s…yes the initial allure did involve the Office. Which brings me to my title. So I get here, all jazzed up to see American TV, ate some delicious pizza and we settled in to watch the show. LOVED it, but here was the weird part…left during a commercial break to get a snack down the street at the pulperia, and had to go to another one. But in my mind, this took 2 minutes, tops. When I came back, the show was OVER! O-V-E-R. And I was absolutely dumbfounded by the difference of time, here and there. When in the states, a half hour is a long time. Here a half hour is next to nothing, easily spent walking to and from a destination, half of a bus ride, etc. It just made me laugh how different my time clock has become since living here.
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