Who Needs A Meteorologist?

The rain has come.  Like an on-time train, the rain came in buckets on May 15.  When you ask someone from Nicaragua about the weather, they always say there are two seasons in Nicaragua.  Wet and Dry.  The wet season begins on May 15 and ends on November 15 (more or less).  On May 15th this year, it was right out of the Nicaraguan almanac, the rain arrived and has persisted nearly every day since.  We have officially entered the wet season, which means a few things: more mosquitos, therefore more deet.  It also means there will be difficulty in getting our washed clothes dry, therefore an unfortunate smell that permeates from the slightly damp clothing.  And, less running because our morning route has become a muddy mess, therefore less tortillas since we can’t run them off.  More yoga instead!

We’ll be awaiting November 15 to see if the people are as correct about the wet season ending as they were about it beginning.  The good news is that the tilling and planting has begun and farmers are preparing to feed the country once again.  It is an important and necessary cycle, and we truly do welcome the rain and all the nourishment it brings.    ~Billy

Ancianos

It was not easy saying goodbye to anyone when we left Waslala almost two months ago, but we had a particularly difficult time saying adios to the ancianos, the folks at the elderly care home we had been visiting once a week.  Iain first took us to the ancianos home the week we initially moved to Waslala, and I remember watching him interact with the men and women there.  He made them feel cared for and special.  Not all of the 12 people there are elderly, but they all do require some sort of dependence. 

Geronimo, who is a paraplegic, would always have a smile on his face despite his being bound to a makeshift wheelchair.  Ramon would find me as I entered the home each week and give me a hug and kiss.  He would just talk and talk and talk.  One day I found him lost in the street and I walked him to the hospital where he was trying to get to.  He said he had a bad headache and wanted some medicine.  Juanita, an elderly blind woman, would smile and laugh when we sat down next to her bed each week.  She was just shy of 4 feet tall, but her heart took up her entire body.  She would always talk of her son that was going to come and visit, but he never did in the six months we kept going.  Antonio, a very prayerful older gentlemen, would sit Kristin and I down after he would crawl out of his mosquito net and talk to us about the joys of marriage.  He would always have some advice for me, the man of the relationship, and for Kristin as the wife.  In a machismo culture, his advice was surprisingly gender equal.  Juan, a reserved gray-haired man who used a walker, would never say much but we would offer our saludos and he would continue to stare outside at the steep mountains that seemed to grow right outside the door.  There was another blind gentleman, two older men, and four other women who would follow us around the crumbling elderly home.

Each week when we went to the home we would bring bananas or a sweet bread to share.  The ancianos never got much food besides the standard beans and rice with tortillas.  When we brought sweet bread they would pine for coffee.  Bananas were always a hit because they were easy to eat without teeth!  They looked forward to our Friday visits as much as we did.  Some of them could not remember our names or that we came by every Friday. They would say hi to us as if it were the first time we were meeting.  But each time we came, we all left with smiles on our faces.  Literally, I could barely understand what most of them were saying, not just because I don’t know much Spanish, but because they were missing teeth or had speech problems.  They didn’t mind, as long as I showed interest in them and what they were sharing. In this way they felt connected to another human being.  They did not get many visitors, so an “outside” face was as much as a treat as afternoon coffee.  Kristin and I were conscious of their lack of visitors and what seemed like a family that had forgotten them.  We were sure to give hugs, shake calloused hands, touch swollen diabetic feet, and just sit with them in their quiet days. 

The reason why it was so tough to say goodbye to Juana, Geronimo, Ramon, Antonio, and the others is because of the situation of their home.  It is officially a part of the parish, with some responsibility falling upon the local government in Waslala.  The new parish priests, the two that succeeded the Brazilians, have yet to visit the ancianos.  We would ask each week if the priests had been by, but the response was always a shake of the head.  The Brazilian priests not only visited regularly, but celebrated mass there, and encouraged others to pay a visit.  The government always lacked the funds to support the home, and the two women who worked at the home were disgruntled to say the least.  They seemed to loathe their job, and despise the ancianos they were there to serve.  The ancianos would complain to us about their treatment, their food, the lack of medical treatment, the dearth of resources, the fact that electricity bills had not been paid and the power was turned off, and the cleanliness of the home and the clients themselves.  These folks are dependent on care and they were rarely shown the dignity they deserved once the Brazilians left.  It was such a sad situation.  They were relying on food donations from people for their rice and beans, and it seemed like the government had given up on them, their caregivers had given up on them, their families had long ago given up on them, and now, the Church had given up on them. 

It pained Kristin and I once we said goodbye for the last time knowing that we would not be able to provide the weekly visit to offer bread and a warm greeting.  We think of them often and keep them close in prayer.  During our last trip to Waslala we returned to the house to check-in and say hello, and plan to do the same each time we make the trek out to our old home.  ~Billy

*The photos above were taken by Vic, Director of VMM, when he visited us in Waslala in February. 

2nd Villanova Experience-

The second experience I had with the Villanova group that I wanted to write about was an overnight trip we took to the community of Yaro. A two hour drive from Waslala, Yaro is situated in an absolutely gorgeous part of the country. While driving and looking out the window, it was as if we were in a Lord of The Rings movie. I don’t think the mountains could have been any greener or the panoramas any more beautiful.

Iain had invited the two Germans and myself to accompany his delegation from Villanova to Yaro. There, the group would be building a water source that would be providing clean water to the town. The main task for the two days of work they had committed to was to build the main intake of the water system. This would require hiking to the source of the water, then building a very small cement dam of sorts, where they would eventually put the pipe that will carry water to a holding tank. There were two Villanova chaperones (a teacher and an alum) and six engineering students ready to get to work.

Leaving Waslala proved to be the greatest challenge of the whole trip as we battled early morning rain and had to gather the supplies for the construction project. The problem was there was no cement to be had in the town since many road contractors were purchasing it all for the road construction they were doing throughout Waslala. We needed at least five bags of cement and a whole list of other materials for the project. After an hour or so, and with Iain making calls to some of his connections in Waslala, we finally had all the materials we needed. We drove out of town on the steep dirt road to Yaro. Luckily, the Villanova students WANTED to ride in the back of the rented Toyota trucks. This left room for Simon, Fredericke, and myself inside the truck on a comfortable seat that was also dry. The students ended up with sore bottoms from the bumpy road and soaking wet from the torrential rain that pelted them in the back of the pick-ups.

Side note: Also sitting in the back of the pick up trucks were three armed National Guardsmen. They had been asked to escort and accompany our group for the time we would be in Yaro. It was a last minute decision that was made by the local government in Waslala when they found out that a bunch of gringos were going to be venturing off. Not that it was unsafe without them, I think they just wanted to ensure safety. When I asked the three military men how old their guns were, since they looked old enough to have been used in the civil war during the 80’s, they said that they were 30-year old Kalishnikovs. These rifles had indeed seen war, and sadly had probably been a medium to many deaths.

When we arrived in Yaro, we were greeted with a small meal from the sweetest most genteel women, Roberta. She spends her day in the “kitchen” at the parish cooking for the townspeople. She had cooked up something tasty for us. We put our bags in the church, waited for the Villanova students to dry off, and then we were on our way to the water source. The students got to work and were accompanied by some men from Yaro. I was able to help only a little bit, but did a better job observing and trying to learn just what they were doing. One thing I am not is an engineer. It was helpful to watch the process from beginning to end, and I think I know how it works now, or that’s at least what I told the Villanova professor.

Before the first day of work came to an end, I was able to hop on a horse that belonged to a local campesino and went for a ride in the bean fields. It made me want a horse all the more! As the work finished on the first day, we hiked back up the mountain and returned to Roberta’s kitchen. Dinner was prepared and there were some philosophical and engaging conversations with the students. That night there was a full moon that lit up the night sky so bright we never needed a flashlight. I figured this was luck since there is no electricity in Yaro. We stayed up for a while with the students laughing, telling jokes, and sharing epoch stories from our lives. They were riveted by what any of us “older” chaperones had to say. Yes, I am one of those older chaperones now to college age students. We put up for the night in the chapel by hanging our hammocks from the rafters and slept rather uncomfortably in the hammock. I read for awhile before falling asleep, and awoke early for a morning prayer outside that was the highlight of my trip. Something to do with silence, wild flowers, mountains, trees, birds, and the soft hum of cows. This was my experience of God.

After a simple breakfast, it was back out to the water source for work day #2. It went well and they finished the cement dam, and I did even less work on this day. Lots of observation and cheerleading. I managed to rest on the bags of sand while hanging with the National Guardsmen. I was impressed with the work of the engineering students and the strenuous labor the locals were contributing to this project. When they finished, it was back up the hill so we could have some lunch before returning to Waslala. Roberta had slaughtered two chickens for our group and we enjoyed fresh chicken soup. Virginia had brought some of her coffee beans and roasted them in the kitchen and was able to sell some to the students. It was much cheaper than the bags of coffee they would probably have bought at the airport as gifts…the classic “tourist-in-Nicaragua” trap.

We took photos, packed our things, and loaded the trucks. Luckily the students still could not get enough of the back of the Toyotas so Simon, Fredericke, and I were back in the comfort of the inside of the truck. We traversed through rivers and rocky roads to finally get back to Waslala. We said goodbye to the students and I told them how impressed I was of their talents, their sacrifice, and their work. They went back to their retreat center outside of Waslala and continued to work, looking at the results from the water samples they had taken and also documenting their findings for further evidence. These students gave up their spring break to spend a week in Waslala in order to provide access to clean water for many people. They were an inspiration to me, and I am proud that Villanova has continued this relationship for close to 10 years. In another 10 years students will still be giving up the “classic” spring break in order to make a difference in people’s lives. And hopefully, in 20 years there won’t be a need for their work because they will have provided access to water for everyone in Waslala.

Way to go Wildcats! ~Billy

Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, It’s off to work we go!

Part of my commitment for work in San Nicolás is volunteering two days each week at La Garnacha, a community just 10 kilometers from San Nicolas. La Garnacha is where our VMM retreat was held this past February. The town has about 100 families and most of them are part of an association that is similar to a cooperative. La Garnacha is considered “touristy,” but not what you think of when you think Cancun or Hawaii touristy. It is popular with retreat groups and the occasional backpacker who is looking to get away from the big city and do some hiking. At the Garnacha there is an organic garden, where they sell the produce to local markets and have a tent at the Esteli Farmer’s Market each Friday. At Garacha they also produce artesian Swiss Cheese. It has won an award for the best cheese in all of Nicaragua. It is heavenly! This means too, that they have lots of cows and goats who produce the milk they use in their cheese. They also have a medicinal herb garden where they make teas.

My schedule for work at La Garnacha begins at 7:45 when I catch the bus out of San Nicolás on Thursday morning. I take it for 20 minutes to the empalme (intersection). From there I walk one hour (about 5 kilometers) on a dusty unpaved road. When I arrive at the Garnacha I help Antonio, Clemente, and Jovania clean the freshly picked vegetables. On my first day after I had peeled cebollinos (chive-like red onions), I moved to the large wash basins to wash the carrots. I literally washed hundreds of carrots, and Jovania knew I was tiring when she encouraged me to take a little break. Maybe it was because I was doing a sort-of yoga squat to give my back a break from standing over the basin. I thought of the farmworkers who toil in the sun bent over most of the day, while I was in a shaded shack washing the vegetables. Solidarity at its finest! After the carrots we washed radishes, green beans, cilantro, celery, lettuce, and beets. All of it is organic, gorgeous, and fresh. We never saw anything like this in Waslala. We bundled the carrots, beets, and radishes, and bagged the green beans. We put everything in crates for the following day’s Farmer’s Market. Antonio was eating what seemed like one carrot for every five he washed, and he finally invited me to sample one. We did not peel them, just rinsed off the dirt and ate the bright orange crunchy stalk. Unbelievable! Sweet Beta-Carotene! From that point on, I sampled everything: the radishes, the green beans, and the lettuce. I felt like the rabbit they were saving all the vegetable scraps for.

After we finished, we went to have a simple lunch. I was able to rest for a little bit before I went to work with Marcos. He is half-Italian half-Nicaraguan and grew up in Rome. He came to Nicaragua four months ago to experience something different in his life. At La Garnacha, Marcos runs the lombrises (earth worms) where he makes the richest compost I have ever seen. It is a large project and they sell both the worms and the compost. They use the cow dung they get from their cows each day, which the worms then eat like its a sweet dessert, and they then crap out the compost fertilizer that is like gold. They use some of the fertilizer on their own crops. Even though it is literally dealing with a lot of feces, it is a beautiful process. I was glad to spend the afternoon getting my hands dirty with dung. I hope to get a bag of the miracle fertilizer and compost when we do some planting at our new house in a couple weeks.

At around four I met Ramon and Manuel (father and son), who work with the cows and goats respectively. They were wielding their machetes and invited me to go with them to cut the Taiwan sacate (a grass the cows eat) and sugar cane. We went off to the pasture and spent about an hour cutting the tall grass. They leave it there overnight and the next day retrieve it for their ruminants. Before I left they cut a stalk of sugar cane for me, peeled it down to the root, and handed me the fresh stalk of sugar. It was sweet and while I could feel my teeth rotting, I enjoyed the rare experience of eating unrefined sugar.

At 5:15 I rushed over to evening prayer that was being held in the chapel. As I walked in I saw five women and one man, all on their knees praying before the open tabernacle. This is not my usual or most comfortable form of prayer, but I joined them on the slate ground. Aching after only a few minutes, I stood up to find a seat. I listened to their requests to God, and added a few silent ones of my own. Their love and devotion to God is remarkable. In the evening I ate dinner with the three guys who live next to the priest’s house: Ariel, Marcos, and Denis. We only talked for a little bit before the guys were off to bed. Though it was early, they all needed to get up at 4:00 am the following morning to prepare for the day at the Farmer’s Market.

I arose early on Friday to help Ramon with milking the cows. We milked 10 cows and took the milk directly to the building where they make the delicious Swiss cheese. Ramon was very careful with cleanliness throughout the milking process, literally washing each utter before milking with a wet handkerchief. While I thought six
months of milking in Waslala would make me look like I knew what I was doing, Ramon had to help me with most of the cows I was trying to milk. There is still so much to the technique I need to learn. Afterward, we led the cows to an open pasture to graze for a few hours, while we ourselves went and had breakfast. He invited me over to his house where his wife made us gallo pinto (rice and beans, which is the national dish), a fresh tortilla right off the griddle, and hot sweet milk that was also from the cows we had just milked. It was the perfect breakfast.

I took a break until 11:00 when we went with Ramon’s daughter to help clean the coral (place where the cows stay). She literally shoveled every last pile of cow poop that was in the coral and took it over to the composting area for the worms. She does this everyday for barely any money. Shoveling s%#t with dignity. After she is done shoveling she sweeps the entire area. Ramon and I tied up the oxen cart, with two bulls, and I hopped in back. I was literally riding in an oxen cart through the town. They led us to the chopped sacate and cane where we filled up the cart to bring back to the mill. Manuel met us at the coral, and we ground up all the “grass” for the goats and cows. Just when it was time for the animals to eat, it was time for us to have lunch. After lunch I rested for a bit, and then was able to hop a ride with a man that was heading out toward the main road. He got me close to the main road where I had to continue the journey by foot. I walked a few kilometers before another truck passed on the way to San Nicolás and they stopped to give me a ride. This is life in the campo. This is my work at La Garnacha.

P.S.
Week 2-more of the same plus goat milking and banana tree planting

A Time to Plant

As Ecclesiastes reminds us, “there is an appointed time for everything” (Ecclesiastes 3:1), particularly a time to plant.

In San Nicolás right now, it is a time to plant. However, this also means that it is a time to burn. For decades and decades farmers here in Nicaragua have prepared the land for planting by first burning it. In the short term, this means seemingly “fertile” land, or at least top soil, for planting either beans or corn. However, the burning results in a loss of nutrients in the soil, land erosion due to the soil instability, and loss of animal and plant diversity. In the long term, this method of “preparing” for planting does horrible, irreversible damage to the land. It ultimately leads to a low crop yield, which therefore results in food insecurity, and then hunger amongst the population.

There are numerous groups in Nicaragua working against the burning of la tierra. Many are also working with providing clean drinking water to people, as the problems are linked. One amongst them is Canterra. A friend of ours, Ana, works with Canterra as a Capuchin Corps volunteer. Canterra is based in Managua and they have a farm not far out of the capital city. I would encourage you to check out the important work that they are doing here. Another group doing great environmental work is Agua Para Vida (Water for Life). In the meantime, we wake to the smell of smoke and watch plumes rise from the hills surrounding us as we walk to and from the Institute each day to teach. On the drive to Estelí in the bus, we make our way through a haze, often so thick you cannot see the mountains to the east or west.

During our Saturday morning run a few weeks back we came upon four men out working their field, piles of burning branches and leaves scattered throughout the area, as they tended to the blaze.

Tonight, farmers will gather in the church, carrying with them their precious seeds. A special mass will be held to bless the seeds, as we approach the rainy season and the subsequent planting. You can be assured my prayer tonight will be for an end to the burning, so that we can sustain this beautiful earth and creation that God has given us. In this way we can continue to celebrate the “time to uproot the plant” (Ecc. 3:2) and a healthy harvest to provide food for all here. ~Kristin

Celebrating Greek Easter is an annual tradition for my family. Since we could not celebrate Greek Easter with the Vozikes clan in the Bay Area, we decided to start a little tradition here in Nicaragua.  It was Kristin’s idea and we enjoyed sharing it with our two housemates, Carolina and Mary Luz.  After dying the eggs red (for more info on this tradition read here), we played the game tsougrisma, where you each take an egg and crack the egg against the other person’s egg (read here for info on the game).  Whose ever egg does not break will supposedly be with luck for the year.  The girls loved it and laughed hysterically when we played.  We’ll be sure to do it again next year! -Billy