Today is Thursday. This time next week I will be back in Gringolandia (also known as the United States of America) trying to figure out what to do with myself. The unofficial motto of the Jesuit Volunteers International is “ruined for life”. I didn’t quite understand what this meant when I came in, but now, the message rings loud and clear. I feel like I am going to be a complete and total fish out of water. The thought of shopping in grocery stores or having to choose between 15 different beer options at a restaurant has me riddled with headaches and nerves. Somebody who lives around the corner from me put a second story on their house recently. It stopped me dead in my tracks as I was walking. I realized that I hadn’t seen a building that tall in a residential area in years. I can’t even imagine walking around downtown LA. Bottom line, things are going to be different. It’s probable that you will have to treat me like your own personal Encino Man, reintroducing table manners and proper hygiene techniques. Just kidding of course…kind of.

So what to say of my two years here? It is a complicated thing. This wasn’t a “trip” (although many people love to ask the question “so how was your trip”, as though I have been on summer vacationJ). Can anyone really sum up their last two years of life into a concise little sound bite that works well for dinner parties and friends in passing? I can’t possibly relay what it has been like and how I feel in a way that will do justice. It has been an experience completely unique and tailored to me. I have had some of my most intense experiences of joy, confusion, fun, frustration, sadness and peace. I have felt that life in Nicaragua is so intensely rich and visceral that I couldn’t possibly ever understand it. I have also felt completely comfortable, at home, and in the place I was always meant to be. It’s been like both a smack in the face and a huge hug given out in equal doses.

What will I miss? Aside from the obvious… rum, gallo pinto, amazing fresh fruits and veggies, I will miss the people. I say this in reference to my friends, coworkers and students, but also to the people I meet every day. Nicaraguans are an incredibly warm and welcoming people. There are exceptions, of course, but the positive vastly outweigh the negative. I will miss the candid conversations I have had with the three old men at my bus stop. I will miss the wave and “buenas dias” I get from the man who works at the tile factory around the corner from my house. I will never forget hitchhiking home from work along side women selling bread and fruit out of giant canastas. They always have a story of suffering, but never is it told with out a message of hope. This has been a place of inspiration and exploration. The people have been my guides.

The good news is that I don’t have to come home and close my door to the past. As the country becomes more and more developed a greater number of people I know have access to the internet and telephones. If I can’t reach them directly, I can at least write a friend or neighbor and have them pass along the message. This knowledge brings me a lot of comfort. I have become very close with some of my co-workers and a few particular families. I even have a godchild that I plan on being in regular contact with from here on out.

Now what? Long and short…Who knows. I will be flying back to Sacramento and staying with my parents for a few months. My sister and brother in law now live up the street from them and my brothers both live in Sacramento now too. I am looking forward to spending a little time with the family together. We haven’t all lived in the same city since we were little kids.

I do realize however, that I am a city boy and will need to move to a bigger city fairly soon. The most likely destination is LA, but SF is also in the radar. I want to spend a year prioritizing my next moves. I will be working and most likely applying to a few Graduate School programs. I’ve received a few interesting offers, but I am trying to keep my options open until I know exactly what the adjustment to being home is like and where my passions fall now that I am out of the Latin American atmosphere. If you have any inspiring ideas please let me know!

Well, this is the end of the Nicaragua section of this blog. Sorry that there are no pictures to contribute. My camera fell off its perch the other day and broke. I can show you all of the rest of the pics when I am home. I get into Sacramento on the evening of the 20th. Expect to see my ugly mug shortly there after.

Much love as always. MG

Luis and His Horse

Recently my friend Luis (my godson Bruno’s father) was coming home from work on his horse cart. Luis earns most of the family’s income by cutting firewood in the forest that he later sells in the market. It is an extremely tiresome and humble way of making a living, but it has allowed him to get two daughters through the university and provides food on the table for his children. Just barely, but he manages. Just as he arrived at the entry to his home, his entire cart tilted over spilling all of the wood down the hill. Luis fell to the ground and discovered that his horse had died. Luis sat there with his horse the entire night until his wife Mariza finally found him and brought him to the house.

Luis inherited the horse about 15 years ago when his father-in-law passed away. He comes from a very modest family. He has no plot of land to tend and no family savings of money from which to draw. Luis never attended school and never learned to read or write. Considering his circumstance, he has done quite well for his family. They have a small snack bar at my school that doesn’t make much, but allows a block of cheese or maybe some meat or milk to augment the standard rice and beans. Luis also works nights as the security guard of the school, leaving him to sleep 3 hours at lunchtime per day. The money he earns as a security guard has allowed him to pay for his daughter’s educations. Now, with the loss of his horse, he was stuck at a crossroads. He didn’t have the money to replace the horse. Without his horse, the firewood business would be impossible and he wouldn’t have enough income to purchase the weeks food, let alone the stock for the snack bar, and certainly not his daughter’s educations. It was this last factor that had Luis most beat up. He has an intense belief that his sacrifices will be made fruitful by the success of his children and the future that they will provide for the family. He wants desperately to see his family move on from their day-to-day making ends meet lifestyle.

Luis and I sat on the hill above my school as we do every day. Here we have discussed everything from politics to family to women. This day he was clearly distraught. He began telling me everything that had happened the day before. He held back tears at first, but eventually couldn’t contain himself. His disposition and the desperation of the situation began to remind me of my own father and the difficult years we passed during his bankruptcy. I remembered how destroyed he felt when he imagined that he might not be able to send his kids to the schools they deserved. I felt so frustrated for Luis. I knew that the problem was so much bigger than a stupid horse, but I also new that what Luis needed right now was a real solution and not some theory about the cycle of poverty.

I went home that night and couldn’t sleep. I have always maintained during my time here that I cannot fix everyone’s problems, and that band-aiding situations would ultimately do no good. I also knew however, that a workhorse in Nicaragua costs approximately 150 dollars. This is an impossible amount for Luis, but nothing for me. Again I thought about my own family, the bankruptcy, my father’s illness, and those particular people who literally saved our lives through their generosity. I had always told myself that I would never forget their compassion. I woke up the next morning and pulled the money out of the bank. I thought on the way to school about how to approach Luis. What was the morally right thing to do? I thought about loaning the money. I considered paying for half. Finally I came to a conclusion. For once, Luis deserved a break. We sat up on the hill the next day and I handed him the envelope. I told him about my family and how I much I respected him and his unfailing work ethic. I gave him the money and told him that there was no catch. He refused the money. Luis is proud, just like my father. I handed him the money one more time, telling him that there was a lesson in all of this. He didn’t have to go this alone. We both sat there for a while, chocked up and unable to talk more. Luis finally took the help and went out to buy the horse the next day. I know that in some people’s minds, what I did was probably not the right thing to do. For me, it was the only human response possible. Luis is my friend.

Quick Updates (September/October)


Dirty Jokes
I had the great joy of inviting my coworkers to my house the other day for lunch. We had been in a training workshop in the morning and my boss had given us the rest of the day off. When my coworkers started to complain that they would be put straight to work when they got home, I suggested we take it easy at my house. These people NEVER take it easy. We made chicken and rice with fried plantains, sat around telling stories and even bought a bottle of rum. I got the idea that watching a movie together might be fun, so I grabbed the DVD’s my mom and sister have sent and showed them the options. They picked the 40 Year Old Virgin (dubbed in Spanish of course). I have never seen a group of people laugh so loud in my life. They made commentaries about everything, getting mad at the characters and offering life stories in between. It was not your conventional viewing. They even rewound the video three times to re-watch the opening boner scene with Steve Carell. They found it unbearably hilarious. I was pleased to find that Potty humor translates into all cultures and languages.

Matt Littrell’s Whirlwind Visit
My friend Matt Littrell emailed me the other day on a Monday night asking about when a good time to visit would be. In true Matt spontaneity, he was here by Friday morning. It was super fun hanging out and talking about old friends, the future and life in general. We met a couple of girls at the Laguna de Apollo and traveled with them to Granada where I got bed bugs, but other than that had a blast roaming around the colonial town. Matt was gone a few days later, but officially made me ready to see everyone again. True to form, as any good friend should, Matt arrived off the plane with a big bottle of Grey Goose in hand. Thanks to PJ and Rob for setting that standard.

No Rain

The last few months have been quite difficult for my community here. Unlike last years storms that destroyed harvests and caused innumerable illnesses, this year has been particularly dry. As a social worker, I thank god for the warm weather that has allowed our sick children and elderly to survive this normally treacherous season. As a community member I sit frustrated with my friends, as yet again their crops die from unexpected and unfavorable weather. Few crops mean very little income, which results in extremely limited meals, further illness and the greatest effect - a vast depression of spirit. There is very little one can do in this situation. We simply wait for the next harvest season and share resources in the mean time. Please pray for the small farmers of San Isidro de Bolas.

Election Fever
The presidential elections are next week. One candidate is a hugely corrupt Sandinista commander who is promising zero unemployment, apparently unaware of the unfavorable nature of zero unemployment on a growing economy. Another is the owner of a local bank who gained fame when he scandalously funneled money to his pals and family during the collapse of the bank system a few years back. Yet another is the handpicked mouthpiece of Arnoldo Aleman the now jailed former president who shamelessly stole the countries relief money in the last hurricane. The best option the country has as far as a non-corrupt leader goes is a guy whose posters eloquently state “Vote for the ugly guy who wants a pretty Nicaragua”. God have mercy on our souls.

The Free Food Revolution

In all the world, free stuff is the ultimate motivator. Nicaragua is no exception. Just about every day I find myself amazed at the random things that make there way to our center, whether we like it or not. Some of the gems I can remember off-hand that have come as “donations” have included: big red chewing gum (past sale date), Stater Bros 50% off sale stickers, small silk coin purses (each including two small marbles that were actually a hit with the boys), the English version of the New Testament (highly useful in a community where many still can’t read in Spanish), we even received a shipment of USAID Rice that came with an oversized poster of George Bush, the patron saint of charity. This was just days after CAFTA was officially signed, assuring the rapid destruction of San Isidro’s, and most of Nicaragua’s, agriculturally based economy. Gotta love progress.

In the name of saving money and taking advantage of all resources, my bosses have recently began a very intelligent process of requesting past date foods for immediate use in our kitchen. We serve food to over 500 people per day. As one can imagine, this gets expensive. Every day companies throw away thousands of dollars in products that are still perfectly useable but have simply past there sell date. We have in turn found an array of companies eager to donate their overstock. This change has resulted in both an increase and decrease in my quality of life.

The good news is that the Marimba Juice Company has saved our stomachs from parasite-ridden fruit juice, providing me and our students with a sealed and sane beverage option. The bad news is that the local butchers have also jumped in on the “Donate my waste product” bandwagon. Now, instead of the conventional rice and beans, maybe a soup or even a soy hash dish, we find ourselves eating minced cow heart over rice, stewed intestine and chicken foot goulash, among other fine delicacies arranged from the generosity and good will of our friends in the live stock business. This new development has left me feeling like a total prude, involuntarily watching my face curl up in disgust at each meal like a middle aged aristocratic woman whose been dropped off at an Insane Clown Posy concert. I literally threw up in my mouth the other day when I found myself spooning around my soup a set of lungs and heart still connected. My kids on the other hand are ecstatic with the increase of meat in their diets. At any given moment these days one can find a spare organ, hove, or even eyeball saved for later in the pockets of my fourth grade boys. It’s precious.

PJ and ROB in Central – NC 17

PJ and Rob, two of my best friends from the university came out to see me a few weeks ago. As expected, they came with a stated purpose of drowning me in vodka and getting into trouble. Their bags were equipped with little more than a Costco sized package of Gold Bond medicated powder and the biggest bottle of Grey Goose vodka I’ve ever seen. In all reality the combination is probably the best Managua survival kit one can pack. Regardless of the fact that we are all now “self-sustaining respectable adults with jobs”, we wound up drawing vulgar hieroglyphics all over Rob’s passed out corpse within hours of them getting here. It was the closest to home I’d felt in a long time.

During their trip we went to the Laguna de Apollo where we played cards on the floating deck (consequences of losing a round? …getting slapped on the hand with the might of three margaritas). The rest of the time at the Laguna was spent unsuccessfully trying to stand upright on the kayaks and getting into heated discussions with assorted Euro-granolas at our hostel about to what continent Nicaragua belongs.

After the Laguna I took them to my school so they could see what I do out here. Peej and Rob are definitely more fit for an adult crowd, but I was impressed with how they handled my class. It was like watching Kindergarten cop live. Hilarious! They “caveman-ed” their way through the class, getting my students out of their seats and laughing. The kids loved them and still ask about them.

As a reward, we headed to Costa Rica (a far less exciting and mucho more expensive Central American country). In Costa we got to surf and P and R taught me how to juggle fire (a skill that should not be picked up by the uncoordinated). We even found time to film a music video for a song I wrote with my roommate Vince about my niece Stella. It will be up on You Tube soon for all to see just how cheesy we can get. Unfortunately, PJ and Rob eventually had to go and I got back to work. Plans for the New Years reunion tour are already in the works.

BIRTHDAY AND MORE BIRTHDAY

I celebrated my 25^th birthday here in Nicaragua last month with real style. It was a work day, so I had to go out to the school. My roommates woke up at 5:30 am to catch me before I went to work. They sang “las Maňanitas” and gave me a bowl of cornflakes (a rare delicacy here) and a huge Bloody Mary (even more rare). I arrived early to work on some accounting stuff and found all of the students gathered and ready to sing me Happy Birthday in English. It sounded more like “apio verde to jew”, but it was beautiful none-the-less. They then performed a few dance numbers and a couple of kids lip sang to some popular reagaton songs. I received all kinds of gifts in kind, ranging from bags of peppers and avocados to hair gel to ceramic jugs (yes, that’s plural). I was really taken back by everything they had done. We generally don’t celebrate birthdays at work, and most of my friends really don’t have the means to be giving gifts. I definitely recognized and appreciate the sacrifice they made to make me feel loved.

It didn’t stop there. The next day, I showed up to work to find that classes had been cancelled. They purchased a piñata, and cake and soda for the kids. The kids played music on our old beat up boom box and they all danced. My coworkers prepared a huge breakfast feast and each made speeches. They finished the party with their rendition of a really sappy song about friendship. Again, I was overwhelmed.

It still didn’t stop there. I then went to my second job up the hill and found the whole center decorated with crepe paper and signs wishing me a feliz cumpleaňos. Again, classes were cancelled and we had another piñata and more cake and more soda. My already shaky hands were now on over drive from the days sugar intake. Each group of students I teach (there are five) prepared a special performance and gave mini-speeches, many in English. I almost lost my biz when my sidekick Checho who is 9 and isn’t in my class, got teary as he told me in what must have been hours of memorizing for his ADD mind “Please, no leave. I am sad”. Checho has trouble reading still and I spend a lot of time with him these past few years trying to get him on track. His parents are not around and he lives the life of a basketball being passed back and forth between relatives. Despite everything, he is the happiest little kid you will ever meet. I am especially attached to him.

The day finally ended and I made my way home with two heavy bags of assorted goods and an even heavier lump in my throat. I still feel battered with humility from the generosity and affection of this community. I have so much to learn about putting others before me.

OTHER STUFF

Stinky and Dark

Nica is in yet another energy crisis. As you know, power and water normally go out for a few hours a day in Managua. Now, our maldito power company Union Fenosa has taken to cutting power for as much as 8 to 12 hours a day. We never know when it’s going to go, and I’ve spent countless steaming in my hot- box room. My body is starting to resemble a dried out raisin. My only refuge… a nice bucket shower and a cold beer.

Breaking the Seal

My roommate Vinny’s parents came down a few weeks ago and gave us some much- needed wisdom. The most appreciated was a speech regarding coming back to the states and rejoining the consumer culture after two years of living on 40 bucks a month. According to Mr. Prietto, “You can’t just pull the whole top off all at once here boys. You gotta break the seal a little bit. Relieve the pressure.” Good little miňons, Vince and I took the twenty bucks he gave us to break the seal and blew it all on steaks and premium beer. It was excellent, although we felt kind of dirty afterwards.

Volcanoes, Glamour Shots and Amish People

I climbed volcano Mombacho for the second time! It was a lot harder this time. My body has a lot more mileage on it these days. Highlights were singing dirty songs to my roommate Adri in an effort to motivate her to keep climbing, meeting a random Amish family once we reached the top, and taking glamour shots in the jungle around the craters edge. I took some sniper photos of my Amish friends. They were beautiful, but honestly, who hikes a volcano in suspenders and cowboy boots? And the women… bonnets. Yes, I said it. Bonnets.

I don´t quite understand the blog biz. Too much time away from the real world I suppose. But, I suppose its just a place where i write what I think and if someone is bored enough they come here and read it. I suppose its better than inundating people with big mass emails. SO, I will just start writing on this thing.

Im outa here in a few months. Here being Nicaragua. Hard to believe. Ive been here for about two years. I came here with no expectations and am going to leave here with no clue. But, hey, that´s life as I live it. I´ve had fun, learned a second language, traveled all over, and had enough sense knocked into me to stay confused and frustrated for the rest of my life.

So now I am trying to do my goodbyes to people without completely losing my mind in sadness and guilt. How do I leave my friends here, knowing that I go home to a life that most of them will only dream of living? I just say goodbye, get as many of them as I can an email address and hope that I will be able to afford to visit soon. I realize now that it was kind of naiive of me to think that I could just waltz in here and get close to people and learn etc, and then be able to go back home and keep living the way I´d been. Ive been ruined. Im worthless in the life I used to live. Time to reinvent.

BACK TO SAC. That is the next step. Im going home to see my fam. I get to finally meet my new niece stella, my sister mary´s daughter. I also will get to meet up with my brother dave´s new girlfriend. She´s not so new, actually. Im just a few years behind.