Managua Diaries

The bags are packed

2007-06-05T23:24:00.000-07:00

Last day in Nicaragua… I can’t believe it. I leave tomorrow morning at 7 am.

Here’s what I did on my lat day in Nicaragua.:
- woke up early and went to an 8:00 health class at Pedro Davila. A group of nurses is here for 2 weeks, and they’re teaching nutrition classes to 1st graders twice a week. The kids giggled and chatted as they colored their food pyramids and discussed their favorite fruits.
- Packed, said goodbye to my incredible Spanish tutor, Yacerely
- 12:00 the last lunch. Then we walked the 25 minutes over to Cedro Galán and almost got bitten by about six dogs (typical)
- from 12-1 I worked at our feeding program. About 35 little kids ate lunch there today. I helped Racquel cook the food, hugged all my little ones who I’m going to miss dearly and said many goodbyes
- 1:30-2:30 music class. We sang songs in preparation for the upcoming July presentation and I cried- they’re just so cute when they sing, and I’m so proud of them for learning so much in music class this year. Elba sat on one side of me, arm draped over my shoulders and Yuvi sat on the other side, holding my hand.
- 3:00 I got a haircut from Carolina in her home. Doña Juana sewed on her sewing machine and Jasmina sat in a rocking chair next to me. We chatted while Carolina cut my hair, laughed about how sore we were from exercise class and then I said goodbye, promising to keep in touch.
- 4:00 Went to the Flores family’s home. We sat on the porch on rocking chairs, reminisced a little bit, cried a little bit, and hugged for a long time.
- 5:00 walked over to Racquel and Marcos’ house. We sat in their living room, chatted, and I caught the end of my last Telenovela (Latin American soap operas that are just too funny).
- 5:30 I taught my last women’s exercise class. The class was full. Lydia, mother of five, brought her 6 month old baby girl to class. We set up a mat and towels where the baby could stay while her mom exercised. Linette, the baby, cooed and gurgled the entire time.
- 7:00 Advanced English class. Lots of goodbyes- this time in English- lots of email swapping and hugs. More tears.
- 9:00 back to the Manna house to finish packing, to sit on the roof one last time, to chat on Tracy’s bed one last time, and take one last big group picture.
- And now it’s late. My alarm is set for 4 am. My bags are packed. I’m feeling sad to leave but excited to see family and friends at home. And now I’m thinking, wow, how lucky I am that I get to do Manna Project again for another year- but this next time in Ecuador.

¡dale pues, Nicarauga! Adios, por ahora.

Meyling's Story

2007-05-27T14:51:00.000-07:00

Last week I went to Hospital Mascota (a public children’s hospital in Managua) with four of our summer volunteers (Thomas, Laura, Mike and Bailey) to shadow in the ER for the morning.

At 7:30 am we hopped in the Manna microbus decked out in scrubs (donated by a recent medical brigade) and drove 30 minutes to the hospital while listening to Manu Chao’s “Me Gustas Tu.”

Hospital Mascota has dated architecture from the 70’s and cream-colored walls decorated with bears, butterflies and balloons, giving the building a child-oriented feel. The place is bustling with coughing Nicaraguan kids, fathers wearing cowboy hats, anxious mothers fanning themselves with newspapers while nursing their babies, doctors in white coats, and a few over-worked nurses. The air felt humid and sticky from the recent summer rains and smelled like, well, hospital. We walked through the busy, winding hallways until finally we made it to the ER to meet Dr. Guido, the attending physician.

Dr. Guido led us to two rooms that make up the ER. One room has two beds and is where patients are first brought in with their emergencies; it’s where doctors figure out what’s wrong, and then stabilize the patient. The second room is where kids go after they’ve been stabilized. It’s kind of like the “wait until there’s a doctor available who can tell you what they’ll do next” room- it has 20 beds. Some people have been waiting there for days. This room is where we met Meyling.

Meyling is 14 years-old, has beautiful, light brown skin dusted with freckles, brown hair that falls to her shoulders in loose ringlets and striking golden-hazelnut colored eyes. When we walked into the room I saw her laying on one of the hospital beds holding her mother’s hand, and with much effort, she sent a weak smile our way. We walked to her bed and introduced ourselves. Her sparkling nail polish caught my eye and when I told her how much I liked it, she struggled to respond- she couldn’t get the words out of her mouth- stuttering and slurring her speech, it was apparent that she had lost motor control of her tongue and mouth. When she tried to raise her head from the white hospital pillow, she couldn’t do that either. Her hands flopped around in clumsy, uncontrolled movements. I glanced down at the chart hanging from the foot of her bed and it said “diagnóstico: tumor del cerebro” which translates to “diagnosis: brain tumor.”

Apparently just a few months ago, Meyling was a healthy, happy sophomore in high school. Her favorite subject was math. She has four sisters, is the second eldest and loved spending time with her friends. Meyling was excitedly preparing for her Quinceaños on June 10th, which is pretty much one of the most important days in a Latin American teenage girls’ life (the quinciñera wears a big princess dress and hosts a large party of family and friends for her coming of age). Two months ago, Meyling’s mom noticed that she was walking a little funny, and having trouble moving her hands. Every day, Meyling’s motor control got worse and worse, until 25 days after the onset of symptoms, she could no longer walk. Her family, worried sick, took her to several doctors near their home in southern Nicaragua but because of the lack of technology in the area (namely, no MRI’s), nobody knew what was wrong with her. Once Meyling could no longer speak or focus her eyes on an object (she lost visual motor control as well), her mother brought her on a 6 hour bus ride to the ER at Hospital Mascota in Managua. After a few tests, doctors told her that she had a massive brain tumor pushing on her motor cortex. They said it was too big to operate. They referred her to a physical therapist. And when we met Meyling, she was waiting to be discharged from the hospital. Her mother, tears streaming down her face while she told us this story, had no other choice but to take her 14-year-old daughter, who’s invasive brain tumor was causing the rapid deterioration of all brain function, home. And this is when my heart broke for the thousandth time for this sweet girl and her terrified mother.

Meanwhile, Laura, a rising sophomore pre-med at the University of Kentucky and MPI summer volunteer, was making a new best friend. Meyling quickly attached herself to Laura, very much drawn to her sweet and gentle nature. Meyling held Laura’s hand, smiling and so happy to have a friend. They sat that way for a while together- hand in hand- sometimes giggling, sometimes crying, while we asked Meyling about school and her friends at home. They had formed an instant connection, and when Meyling managed to say to Laura, “you’re my beautiful friend,” Laura, Meyling’s mother and I all fought back tears. When it came time to leave, we borrowed a pen and drew a small heart on Meyling’s hand, “para fuerza,” for strength.

The van ride home was pretty quiet. It’s hard to know what to say after an experience like that. Meyling’s story broke our hearts. As an aspiring physician, I know that moments like those light small fires in my desire to not only become a great doctor but to bring great healthcare to families like Meyling’s. And I’m not hesitant to say that meeting Meyling sparked a similar flame in Laura’s heart.

So this is in honor of Meyling, the beautiful 14-year-old with golden-hazelnut eyes and sparkling nail polish.

It rained!

2007-05-27T14:43:00.000-07:00

I'm happy to report that about a week ago, the first rains of the wet season finally hit Nicaragua. The dry, dusty, hot air has been replaced by cool, wet breezes and a humidity that makes my hair curl. The land is green again, and everything feels lush and tropical. So what if I've developed a fro'? I'm loving this change of pace.

Musically Minded

2007-05-14T11:59:00.000-07:00

Every Tuesday at 1:30 in the Manna schoolhouse (called “El Farito”), Scott and Andie (short for Andrea) teach music class. They go equipped with tambores, maracas, una guitarra, instrumentos de percusión, and plenty of patience.

The kids come to class excited and antsy after being in school all morning; talking, laughing, playing around, practicing karate kicks, trying to mess with Scott’s hat (which is SO not allowed), arguing over which instrument they want, hugging Andie (over and over and over), etc. The kids are so wound-up, that the first few minutes of class could be spent trying to get them to calm down- but instead, Scott and Andie give the kids 5 seconds to make as much noise as they want. The kids jump up and down, yell and scream and flail their arms about frantically, and when Scott shoots his hand up, they’re suddenly silent (pure genius, I know).

Then Scott starts playing music on his speakers- sometimes it’s jazz, sometimes blues, sometimes something Nicaraguan. He asks the kids what feelings they have when they listen to the music, and what adjectives they’d use to describe it. The kids may say something like “aburrido” (boring) or “necio” (annoying) and then start whispering to their friends, but more often you can see them tapping their foot to Miles Davis, or listening calmly to Beethoven, or using words like “desorganizado” (disorganized) to describe a complicated jazz piece. And then occasionally, Scott plays a classic rock piece (think Led Zepplin), and the little boys stand up and start jammin’ out on their air guitars.

The class has been meeting for 8 months now. I go as often as I can, and the progress the kids have made in music class is truly remarkable. The (sometimes crazy) kids have learned how to identify time signatures, rhythms, they can read music (seriously), they’ve performed in a holiday concert and are currently learning songs for another concert in July. These kids, who before MPI had never had a music class in their life, now understand more music theory than the majority of North Americans. They not only know the difference between a half rest and a whole rest, but they also know how to write and identify them in a piece of music. Plus, they’re learning to love a wide variety of music. I asked 9-year-old Daniel (who’s famous for his air guitar impression) what his favorite song was, and he said “Money by Pink Floyd.” When I asked why, he said, “porque tiene siete tiempos” (because it’s in 7/8 time). And then he ran off and proceeded to practice more karate kicks with his friends, while Scott and Andie cleaned up after another successful music class.

playing Music Note Bingo

Mango Rains

2007-05-11T10:14:00.000-07:00

The mango trees in Nicaragua are in full bloom; their blossoms are bright orange and red mangoes. Mangoes drop from the trees like beads of water from a leaky faucet. The streets are covered in fallen mangoes, smelling sweet and over-ripe. Kids can be seen walking away from a tree down the street, grinning, with shirt-fulls of the juicy, sticky fruit.

Sometimes we sleep outside under the stars for the cool, night breeze. There’s a mango tree that sits in the back yard, so large that its shade covers the entire pool house. At night, the mangoes drop from the tree and crash onto the pool house roof. When several fall in succession there’s a pitter patter banging noise... we call it the mango rains.

(trying to) Beat the Heat

2007-05-09T19:33:00.000-07:00

Right now in Managua, it's hot. Really hot. March, April and May are apparently the hottest months of the year in Nicarauga, and we're all well aware of it.

It's so hot that...

- I need to sleep with a fan about 10 inches from my face.

- The new style is "sweat marks," everyone wears them.

- We had to make a mini-pool for our Rotweiler puppies. The puppies can be found laying in the small bucket of water pretty much any time of day.

- Drinking about 4 Nalgenes of water a day is completely necessary.

- Little kids refuse to wear clothes. Really, any child under the age of 2-and-a-half can be found in only diapers.

- We haven't had ice in our freezer for about a month (because it melts so quickly every time we open the freezer door).

- Rather than drink the water during feeding program, the kids dump it on their head to cool off (ok, this only happened once).

- Rather than read on the bus, men and women fan themselves with newspapers, magazines, and school homework.

- I'll walk 45 minutes to the community center, for the sole purpose of buying one of their all fruit, FROZEN paletas (popsicles).

- We take trips to the gas station 25 minutes away just to stand in the air conditioning for a few minutes.

We're all dreaming of the soon-to-come rains that summertime in Nicaragua brings about. But in the mean time, I'm learning to love the every day humor that comes with men, women, children, MPI volunteers and animals all trying to beat this insane Nica heat.

First of many Ecuador updates

2007-04-30T22:23:00.000-07:00

On January 11th, 2007 I was one of five volunteers from MPI who boarded a plane to Quito, Ecuador for eleven days to conduct a MPI site feasibility study. The goal? Eventually start a new Manna site in Ecuador.

I’d never been to South America before, and was taken aback at how beautiful it was to fly into Quito, the capital city (where MPI will have its new site). Quito, long and narrow, is literally sandwiched between the green, Andes Mountains. It’s absolutely gorgeous. So landing in Quito is like this: you see beautiful mountains, huge volcano, beautiful mountains, beautiful mountains and then out of no where, there’s gigantic city that’s about twenty times as long as it is wide. Needless to say, it’s easy to start dreaming of hiking Cotopaxi and Pichincha (two huge, dormant volcanoes close to Quito), considering that from the center of the city all you have to do is look up to see their ominous, snow covered peaks.

Quito is divided into northern and southern parts by a majestic statue of the Virgin Mary called “El Panecillo” and is two miles high (the subsequent lack of oxygen meant we were often out of breath while exploring the hilly, cobblestone streets of Old Quito). Women walk around in traditional Incan attire of felt hats, knit shawls, and babies strapped to their backs with colorful, hand-embroidered material. Northern Quito boasts modern buildings, clean streets and an impressive infrastructure that helps business flourish. Southern Quito, on the other hand, is less developed and, generally speaking, is home to greater poverty than its northern counterpart. The dichotomy between resource-rich Northern Quito and resource-poor Southern Quito is striking, and part of the reason why we chose Quito as the next Manna site: the division means a) access to resources and b) communities of real need all in the same geographical proximity.

The itinerary for our trip was jam-packed meeting with several non-profit organizations, hospitals, a microfinance company, friends of friends who lived in Ecuador, etc. The hope was to (1) begin networking and develop connections in Ecuador (2) find a community where we could work and (3) find a partner organization, through which we’d be introduced to the community and learn more about the area where we’d serve. The days were full and wonderfully exhausting. I personally found solace in the brief hot-water showers at Casa Victoria (a huge treat because we don’t have hot water in Nicaragua at the Manna house) and the occasional cup of coffee from Café Oro, which is seriously the best coffee I’ve ever tasted.

If you’re interested in the details of the trip, click here (LINK TO FEASIBILITY REPORT). Otherwise, here are the “take home points” from our eleven days in Quito:
1. We found several potential sites. Our favorites are a place called “Santa Isabel,” a quiet, little town about 25 minutes south of Quito and “San Roque,” which is an urban site in the heart of Old Quito.
2. The boys from the trip will basically eat anything (including hot chilies that will make you cry and guinea pig. Yes, guinea pig, which happens to be quite common in Ecuador. They say it tastes like chicken).
3. We connected with several organizations and people in Quito. The really exciting one that seems to fit best with our needs as a partner organization is a small, Ecuadorian non-profit called UBECI. They connect international volunteers with service opportunities in Santa Isabel and Quito and are looking to expand the programs they already run (which is where MPI comes in).
4. We’re going to be able to start a new Manna site in Ecuador. We’ll begin in early September, 2007 (woo hoo!).

So what are we up to now? After finalizing our Ecuador team in early April (it will be an amazing group of 10), we’re now busy solidifying partnerships in Ecuador. We’re working on getting our Visas, continuing to network with our contacts in Quito, researching Spanish schools, getting in shape to hike Cotopoxi and fundraising, fundraising, fundraising. And I’m counting down the days when I can get my hands on some more Café Oro coffee. On behalf of the MPI Ecuador team, we’re pumped, and we look forward to keeping you updated on our progress.

Los Sapos, Honduras

2007-04-13T23:29:00.000-07:00

Copán is a quiet little town nestled in the northern part of Honduras. White adobe buildings with red-tile roofs line the cobblestone streets. Men wear white cowboy hats, children splash around in a wide, clear river at the base of the pueblo, and a cool breeze often blows through the Copán valley, a lush, peaceful land filled with archaeological footprints of the ancient Maya civilization.

My favorite part of the pueblo, however, was Los Sapos- nestled on the mountainside over looking the valley, it is a ruin…
of two huge toads.

We had just been to the Copán Ruinas the day before to see beautiful stone sculpture after beautiful stone sculpture: ornately carved mosaics, buildings with thousands of steps and sacrificial Mayan temples.

So you can imagine my delight when the next day we hiked 45 minutes up the valley to see different ruins of two large, ancient, carved-out-of-rock toads standing foot to foot.

Apparently, in Maya tradition the toad is a symbol of fertility. Historically, Mayan women would travel to Los Sapos to give birth, believing in the birthing and fertility powers of the toads. Little stone toads (replicas of Los Sapos) are sold in all the markets in Copán, many which are given as gifts to pregnant women to bless their labor.

I’m not sure if it’s because I grew up with an obstetrician father and a nurse midwife mother, but I was particularly drawn to this toad legend of fertility. To me it’s just beautiful that this ancient site was the birthing place for Mayan women. And that fact that two frogs represent it is just, well, awesome.

Before leaving Copán I bought a tiny stone toad for 10 lempiras to give to my mom for her nurse-midwifery practice. Who knows if the ancient legend is true, but I’d like to think her patients might benefit in some way from the centuries-old, magic, Mayan birthing powers of Los Sapos.

I survived Volcán Pacaya

2007-04-10T17:24:00.000-07:00

You know that game called “lava” that most everyone used to play as a kid? It’s the one where you swing and climb and play on a jungle gym, but you can’t touch the ground because it’s molten, hot lava- and if you touch it, you die? Well I played that game (except in real life) on Volcán Pacaya in Guatemala. We jumped, and skipped and ran on solid lava rocks- underneath which, lay real, red-hot lava. It was seriously a childhood dream.

Here’s how the story goes:

It was day five in our road trip adventure around Central America and we had just spent one day in beautiful Antigua, Guatemala. Colorful, Spanish-colonial buildings, ancient cathedrals, horse-drawn carriages, women walking around in traditional Mayan dress called traje, vendors selling mangoes and pineapples on the street, bright flowers spilling over high walls guarding beautiful, Latin homes and street after cobblestone street of fountains, parks and courtyards. Antigua is charming, don’t get me wrong, but I could only stroll down the streets of the tiny town for so long… the surrounding volcanoes, beautiful and green and huge, were so close and tempting. I couldn't wait to hike.

That afternoon I went to a bar/ café with Hilary to get some café con leche, when this British guy walks in with this huge grin on his face, flushed, clearly having just been on a hike. He sits down next to me, introduces himself and after ordering a cold beer (Gallo to be exact… the local Guatemalan beer) says, “I don’t know what you’re into, but if you want to experience the biggest rush of your life, go hike Volcán Pacaya.” And that’s all he needed to say. After downing my coffee and paying five quetzals (about 60 cents), I signed myself up to hike the volcano the next day.

The hike started out at the base of the volcano, where bunches of locals advertise the “taxi natural” (horses that will walk you up the majority of the mountain), to which we said no gracias. Actually getting to the lava takes a good 45 minutes. Hilary, Tracy and I hiked with three travelers from Ireland. The six of us basically ran up the mountain- sweating and breathing hard at 8400 ft. We couldn’t wait to see the lava. Our guide at one point, noticing our faces flushed from exertion, said, “corazón boom boom, como el volcán” which means, “the heart goes boom boom, like the volcano.”

The windy, dirt trail surrounded by trees and greenery eventually gave way to crumbling, sharp, black lava rock. Every step up in the lava rock would slide about two steps back- plus, the altitude was so high that we were basically walking in a cloud. I couldn’t see five feet in front of me it was so misty, which gave the hike an eerie, mysterious feel. The further we walked on the unstable lava rock, the warmer it got. I would occasionally get a gust of hot, dry air that meant we were close to the lava.

And then the guide, a good 50 feet in front of us yells “¡miren la lengua!” referring to a “tongue” of lava that glowed through the clouds- a narrow, bright orange stream of lava flowed down the volcano. The closer we got to la lengua, the more it felt like we were in a sauna. I’d look down, and directly under the rock I was standing on would be moving, real lava. One of the Irish guys we were walking with yelped at one point- the hot lava rock had burned a hole through the sole of his tennis shoe! We were able to hike up dangerously close to the lava- walking eight feet away from the lava wasn’t the smartest idea in retrospect, but it was really incredible (like the Irish guy said who burned a hole in his shoe, “live young and free! We’re only here once!” famous last words, right?).

The guide repeatedly said to be careful, that lava can change its path suddenly and unpredictably. I kept thinking to myself “shouldn’t we have signed some sort of liability waiver before coming on this hike??” As it turns out, the answer was a loud YES, because at one point, this huge ball of lava came loose and almost rolled over several tourists who were taking pictures- but they’re all ok. Fortunately, they got lucky and the lava ball didn’t roll all the way to where they were standing. (Afterward, everyone looked at each other and laughed semi-hysterically… some because they were scared to tears, others because of the sheer exhilaration of dodging a lava ball. How cool is it to say you dodged a lava ball??)

We took some pictures pretending like we were falling into the lava and stuff, sat in silence staring at the molten rock and pondered life for a little while, and then hiked all the way back down the mountain (in the dark). After the sunset, the lava glowed a ghostly red-orange, a striking contrast to the black of the night. After making it home, we kissed the solid, cool ground, showed digital pictures to other fellow travelers in the hostel and proceeded to revel in the afterglow of living our childhood dream of literally, playing over lava.

Central American Road Trip 2007

2007-03-29T13:04:00.000-07:00

10 days, 5 people, 3 buses, 2 rental cars, 3 countries, lots of granola bars. . .

Tomorrow (Friday, March 30th), Hilary, Brandy, Claire, Tracy and I are embarking on our epic road trip throuh Central America. Next week is Semana Santa (the week before Easter) and all of Nicaragua is on vacation. That means, we don't have to run our programs. So we figured we might as well see all of Central America. We leave at 5 am.

Friday: San Salvador
Saturday- Monday: Guatemala (Xela, Lake Atitlan, Mayan ruins, Lago de Izabal, etc.)
Tuesday: San Salvador
Wednesday-Sunday: Honduras (Tegucigalpa, Copan, Pultapanzak, Grasias, Naciones Unidos Park)

We'll be doing lots of hiking, ruin-exploring, sleeping in hostels, backpacking, market-shopping, and lake swimming...

wish us luck
y nos vemos pronto

Scrubbing in

2007-03-26T20:42:00.000-07:00

Today I assisted in my first surgery. Seriously.

My alarm went off at 5:30 am- the same time the roosters in our backyard start crowing and the blood orange sun starts creeping over the horizon. I rolled out of bed, threw on the most professional-appearing attire I have in Nica (a collared shirt, some khakis and my new coconut shell earrings I bought at the market yesterday), made some coffee, ate some gallo pinto and headed off to Hospital Infantil Mascot (one of two free children’s hospitals in Managua).

In order to get to the hospital, I had to catch two different public buses, not an easy task during the mornings when Nicaraguan children are rushing to school and adults are off to work. This morning, like every morning at 6:30 am in Managua, the public buses (old US school buses) were jam-packed… to the point that four or five men were literally hanging out the back, holding on tight to the open doors. I waited for thirty minutes before a bus arrived that didn’t have more than 100 people smashed into the seats and aisles. After two bus rides and forty minutes of standing sandwiched between a pregnant woman and a man holding a bag of rice, I arrived at the Children’s Hospital.

Dr. Mendez, a Nicaraugan pediatric surgeon (who works with our child sponsorship program), greeted me when I entered Hospital Mascota with a kiss on the cheek (the typical greeting in Central America). The hospital, nice by Nicaraguan standards and free to its patients (thanks to tax dollars), was teaming with babies and children and mothers- all waiting to be seen by a physician. Walking to the surgical ward I passed a baby with hydrocephaly, a young girl holding her bloody hand in a cloth, and several crying children holding on tightly to their mothers’ dresses. Dr. Mendez pointed out a three-year-old boy with big brown eyes who was about to have an abdominal surgery… that I got to watch.

Scrubbing into surgery was awesome. Decked out in green scrubs (booties, hat, mask and all), I followed the doctor’s lead as he showed me how to properly wash my hands before surgery; soap up to the elbow, scrub scrub scrub, rinse, repeat.

The little boy on the operating table had a perforated bowel and had already undergone a colostomy, in which part of the large intestine was brought into the wall of the abdomen. As a result, this child literally had part of his intestines outside his tiny belly. The doctor’s job was to repair the bowel, and put the large intestine back inside the boy’s body. For two and a half hours I stood next to the doctor, amazed at his confident and fluid sewing techniques. Stitch here, cut here, cauterize here, sew-up the large intestine- no big deal. It was incredible. And the best part? I got to help out with the stitches- the doc said, “Asi no te aburres” (so you don’t get bored), and handed me the needle. Seriously.

After the successful surgery I watched as the doctor told the parents of the little boy that everything went well. Upon hearing the good news the mother began to weep as did the father. Both are farmers in the mountains of northern Nicaragua, and hardly make enough money to feed their children nevertheless pay for this expensive surgery. They had driven nine hours in the back of a chicken bus with their three-year-old who had a torn bowel (the result of a serious oxen cart accident) because they couldn’t afford the hospitals closer to home. And now their son was going to be okay. They were so grateful to the doctor- the mother (between weeps) even hugged me as she said gracias over and over. Mid-hug the doc looked at me and winked, whispering “el mejor parte del dia,” which means “the best part of my day.”

Best Hospital in Central America?

2007-03-23T14:40:00.000-07:00

This is what the Nicaraguan guidebooks say about a hospital I visited last week with a group of medical students from the US (who were here for a week volunteering through Manna Project)…

“Hospital Metropolitano: The best hospital in Central America. This world class facility boasts the finest medical equipment available, Central America’s most advanced surgical center, and is known internationally for its state-of-the-art healthcare.”

As an eager, med-school-bound, health enthusiast, this kind of description gets my blood going. Basically, I couldn’t wait to see this supposedly incredible hospital- I was so excited that a hospital as advanced as this even existed in a third world country.

So you can imagine my surprise when we discovered that this world-class hospital (despite the fancy machines and expensive equipment) was for all intents and purposes, empty. There were hardly any patients in the hospital- it’s too expensive for most Nicaraguans, 50% of whom live below the poverty line. The white, clean walls of the hospital, decorated with fine Nicaraguan art, stood alone in the deserted hallways. Hotel- like patient rooms, with blue walls and large windows looking over a beautiful garden down below sat silent and vacant. Even the surgical unit, with its state-of-the-art sterilization machines, was unoccupied when we walked through for our tour. Oh, and the most common surgery in this “world-class” hospital? Boob jobs.

I couldn’t believe it. We’d just spent the entire morning working at a free clinic in the Managua City Dump. The tiny clinic (hardly impressive, but quite functional) is a three-room building with two exam rooms, a scale, two shelves and a cabinet for donated medicine (the only medicine). It was jam-packed earlier that day with men, women and children, both young and old. The medical brigade volunteering there did the best they could with the clinic’s limited resources; there was no lab for testing, only a very limited supply of donated medication and no fancy equipment for X-rays or ultrasounds. The three doctors shared one otoscope and one blood pressure cuff (that the medical students happened to bring from the States). Patients waited outside the clinic in lines to be seen. Although hectic and busy and small, the clinic was operational- but because of a lack of resources and supplies, the patients did not (could not) receive complete care. Words can’t describe how hard it is to tell the mother of an extremely sick baby that ‘sorry, we don’t have the right medication for your child. And we don't even know what your baby has because we have no way of doing any tests… maybe come back in a week.’

The morning I’d spent in the chaotic clinic in the Dump contrasted so greatly with the emptiness of this big, expensive hospital. I felt like I’d been in two different worlds. The juxtaposition of the two health care facilities still makes my head spin. Why put so much energy and money into a big, fancy hospital that nobody can afford? Especially when there’s so much potential to impact the severe poverty and disease elsewhere in Nicaragua…

Sandías y Swinging

2007-03-09T21:40:00.000-08:00

Two weeks ago we hauled fifty tiny kids and their mothers from La Chureca (the Managua City Dump) to our community center for a day-long, health-centered event. The children, all part of our Child Sponsorship Program, were dressed in their finest, having been freshly scrubbed and bathed by their mothers. The little boys had their hair parted and most of the girls wore sweet, frilly, lace dresses- presents given to them on their birthdays as part of the Child Sponsorship Program. Upon hugging the kids as they exited the shuttle from La Chureca, I smelled the subtle, inevitable stench of rotting trash and smoke that clung to their tiny bodies- a heartbreaking reminder of the homes these children were coming from: the City Dump.

For the next 4 hours, we played with the kids on the playground; running on the soccer field and spinning on tire swings and giggling and swinging and dirtying up their clean outfits, all while their mothers listened to a health lecture given by a local nurse. The nurse spoke about the importance of nutrition in children’s lives and how it is essential to proper development. After the lecture, we served the kids and their moms fresh watermelon, bananas and oranges- delicacies that the families in La Chureca rarely get to savor.

The aim of this event was to (1) bring the mothers and their children out of the Dump, even if for a few hours, (2) give the kids time to play without breathing in the toxic smoke of burning trash, (3) educate the mothers regarding their children’s nutrition, (4) build friendships with the children and their mothers, and (5) take pictures of the kids to send to their sponsors as a monthly update. The day was a huge success and after a good four hours, the kids (and we, the Manna volunteers) were completely exhausted. Two-year-old Jorge even fell asleep on my lap while we were swinging together. I laughed as we swung back and forth because the sight of this little boy fast asleep in my arms was just too cute to handle. I noticed that his yellow collared shirt was buttoned up all the way and still tucked into his pants... but his once-combed hair was now full of grass (we did somersaults down the hill) and both he and I were covered- head to toe- in dirt after a full day of racing and jumping and dancing in the dusty Nica park. Yes we'll give the kids vitamins, oatmeal, medication, pediatrician visits, birthday presents and love, but we make no promises to keep them clean after a day of playing with Manna Project volunteers.

To see all the children we sponsor, click on:

http://www.charityadvantage.com/Manna_Project_InternationaDBVFBW/NicaChildSponsorship.asp

Jorge and I getting some watermelon.

Some of the mothers during the health talk.

">Dan and I pushing Saleska and Arlen on the swings.

Katy (see earlier posts) looking happy and healthy.

algunas photos

2007-03-07T14:25:00.000-08:00

At La Chureca

At Carol's 15th birthday party (she's on our soccer team).

Arecelly, her daughter, Myra y yo at the birthday party.

Justin, my good friend Sandra's 3-year-old son.

The Machete

2007-03-07T14:16:00.000-08:00

As part of our weekly drama class in El Farito, we often have the kids act out various daily activities such as “brushing teeth,” or “washing dishes.” Many times, this game takes on the form of Charades: the kid picks a piece of paper out of a hat, then acts out whatever’s on the paper while the rest of the class guess what the activity is.

The other day, Elba, an 11-year-old girl (a mischievous beauty, with long, curly brown hair and this great smile) picked out a piece of paper from the hat. She giggles to herself- shy at first to act in front of her peers- but with a little encouragement from Andie (who’s leading the class), she proceeds to act out her activity. Elba bends down close to the ground, and begins to make broad sweeping motions with her right hand. She continues like this for the next few minutes- and honestly, I have no clue what she’s doing… but the other kids do. Immediately, Jose Antonio yells out “una jardinera!” which means, “gardener!” And then it dawns on me- Elba’s cutting the grass. Here in Nicaragua, there aren’t any lawn mowers. People cut the grass with machetes- they bend down low and make broad sweeping motions with the machete, cutting the grass in the process. Elba nods her head “yes!” and sits down, content with her performance.

This drama class was a perfect “welcome back” from my month-long journey back to the USA for medical school interviews. I was instantly reminded that I was no longer in my North American world of MTV and fancy technology. It’s good to be home in Nicaragua, with oxen-drawn carts, grass-cutting machetes and all.

Acting out una iglesia (a church) in drama class.

Quito moments

2007-02-03T14:29:00.000-08:00

I'm home safe and sound from Ecuador, where we conducted a site feasibility study for the New Manna Ecuador site (beginning in September 2007). I absolutely loved Ecuador. Here's a sort of stream-of-consciousness collection (hardly complete) of our time there.

*Florists in the city (Florerias) selling buches of roses, lilies and callalilies for $1.

*The cool mountain air, the azure of the sky from two miles above sea level- a brilliant, bright, crisp, sapphire blue.

*My lungs burn from walking in the hilly city.

*The bustle of the streets- ice cream vendors and street kids running around wanting to polish our shoes and women selling herbs and flowers on the side of the road.

*The elderly man in his dignified grey suit and top hat helping a little girl feed the pigeons in Plaza San Francisco.

*Women with woolen shawls and traditional hats and long hair wrapped in a single, hanging braid.

*Sleeping babies strapped to their mothers by hand-knit woolen shawls- feet peeking out of the bottom of their cocoon. Little bodies, tightly wrapped up and safe on their mothers’ backs.

*Brightly colored hand knit scarves, moccasins and hats sold in the open-air markets- indicative of the chilly Andean air.

*The sharp, snow-topped peak of Cotopaxi, standing proud and stately in the distance.

*The city itself, narrow and long and lively, sandwiched between the green Andes mountains.

*Open markets bursting with fresh fruit and vegetables, eggs, berries, mangoes, barrels and barrels of rice and beans.

*The hush of peaceful Santa Isabel- the quiet, slow pace of life that comes with the countryside.

*The lofty, grand presence of the Virgin Mary statue, el Panecillo, visible high on the hill from anywhere in Quito.

*The cathedrals, glowing at night with rich yellow lights -emitting a soft steady light, whispering of history and a quiet elegance.

*Sharing our excitement with several non-profit organizations in Ecuador about the new Manna site in Quito… and knowing that in September 2007 we’ll be returning.

Photos of Quito, Ecuador

2007-02-03T14:17:00.000-08:00

Here are photos from Manna Project's 11 days in Quito...

For more info, check out: http://www.mannaproject.org/MPIEcuador.asp

Cathedral in Old Quito

Manna crew in Quito

View of Quito from the gondola

Front yard of Casa Victoria

Austen and I after helping out with construction at Casa Victoria

Kids at Tierra Nueva daycare center

Mark, Luke and I overlooking Sur Quito

Church in Old Quito

Another cathedral

Kids at UBECI program in Sur Quito

QUITO, ECUADOR

2007-01-10T21:27:00.001-08:00

I've spent the past 3 hours packing my huge backpacker's backpack (which is now full of stuff and literally, as big as I am). Tomorrow, I'm headed off to Quito, Ecuador with 4 other Manna friends to conduct a feasibility study for Manna Project International- we're beginning a new Manna site in Quito (the capital city of Ecuador) in September 2007.

For the next two weeks I'll be in Ecuador, scouting out needy communities, connecting with other NGO's in Ecuador and laying the foundation for Manna Project's next big site. Many pictures to come...

¡hasta pronto!

Pictures from homestay #2

2007-01-09T19:40:00.000-08:00

A few pictures from my home stay with the Flores family over Christmas and New Years.

At New Years with my Nica family, including Jensil (my sister, age 19) and Lorena (Nica mom)

Welcome note in my room that says "Bienvenidos a tu casa, Abbie, Bienvenidos" which means, "Welcome to your house"

Picture of my adorable room in the Flores home

Being goofy with Dayana (my Nica sister, age 8) and Lorena

Another funny picture

Emilito, Olga's 3-year-old son

Lo que paso ayer

2007-01-02T09:03:00.000-08:00

During my travels, both in Africa and Central America, there have been many moments that have left me awe-struck, completely speechless, not only because of their novelty, but because of their beauty. Just yesterday, I had one of those moments.

I went with my Nica mom, Lorena, to work. Twice a week, Lorena cleans the house and does the laundry of an American missionary in Managua and yesterday, she asked me to go with her to keep her company.

The home, pretty and new, with cream-colored white walls and hardwood floors, is straight out of a Crate-and-Barrel magazine. It was nothing I hadn’t seen before. I grew up in houses like this one in a middle/ upper-class neighborhood in Denver. But when I walked in the house with Lorena for the first time, I was speechless. The house looked so strange to me. I was blind-sided by a feeling like the one I got when I returned to my elementary school for the first time in many years… it was the same school, the same hallways, the same lockers, but everything felt different because I was different. The white couches, sparkling kitchen and Pottery Barn plates in the house literally took my breath away- the site of the house shocked me in that punch-in-the-stomach kind of way. Eyes wide open, I practically gawked at the framed black and white photographs on the walls, the large windows looking out onto the palm-tree covered yard, and the dark mahogany dinning room table. The material items aren’t what left me breathless, rather it was the fact that I was looking at this house from a completely different perspective.

I’ve become so immersed and comfortable with my Nicaraguan lifestyle I didn’t even realize how different it is from my life in the US. I’d just spent the morning cooking gallo pinto, sweeping our concrete floors, pushing Emilito on his bike, and catching the public bus with Lorena to take to work, and there I was, struggling to feel the same normalcy in a house just like the ones I grew up in. I saw the house through a new lens- and it left me dumfounded.

Just the other day, I read this poem and it hit home:

“Be helpless, dumbfounded,
Unable to say yes or no.
Then a stretcher will come up from grace
to gather us up.

We are too dull-eyed to see that beauty.
If we say we can, we’re lying.
If we say No, we don’t see it,
That No will behead us
And shut tight our window onto spirit.

So let us rather not be sure of anything,
Beside ourselves, and only that, so
Miraculous beings come running to help.
Crazed, lying in zero circle, mute,
We shall be saying finally,
With tremendous eloquence, Lead us.
When we have totally surrendered to that beauty,
We shall be a mighty kindness.”

-“Zero Circle” by 13th century poet, Rumi (Version by Coleman Banks)

One of the many incredible things about being truly immersed in another culture is that I am confronted daily with a montón of experiences. I greet each day with an eager anticipation, because I never know what challenges, what lessons, what fresh perspectives I will encounter. I would say at least once a day I have a moment that takes my breath away, which is both exciting and kind of scary at the same time. I often feel lost (it’s a good lost, though) because my own view of the world is changing and evolving at such a rapid pace.

This poem is a constant reminder for me that it’s okay to feel a little “lost” in life and to be taken aback by the vastness of the world and our own utter lack of comprehension of it. In his poem, Rumi is encouraging us to be willing to stand there with our jaw dropped open, dumfounded and amazed before the experiences of our lives. It’s okay that the mere sight of this American-style house left me speechless, and more importantly, it’s okay that living with a Nicaraguan family has influenced me in ways I may not be fully aware of. He wants us to live with arms wide open, helpless- not the kind of helplessness that causes you to crawl in a corner, but the kind that makes us embrace the moment- the kind that is open and tender and vulnerable. Once we are able to just let go, then this stretcher will come- and we call it Grace because we don't know what else to say. To me, this poem isn't necessarily religious, rather a reminder to step out of ourselves, to live as openly as possible. Only when we are able to truly give into the moment will we be able to experience life to its fullest. I constantly remind myself here to just let go of preconceived notions, stereotypes and fears, because it’s how I can make the most of my experience in Nicaragua. And what is this “mighty kindness” that Rumi is referring to? I think it might have something to do with what the Dalai Lama has said, “My religion is kindness.”

“When you abandon yourself utterly to life, the river will flow and the log jam will be free. Who would have thought it, life takes another turn and you are gathered up into a whole different way of seeing and being.” (Roger Housden) So here I am, dumfounded at the fact that this sparkling, beautiful house looks so strange to me… and honestly, moments like these where I’m left speechless- moments like the ones Rumi is talking about where I feel helpless- are what make my time here so positive.

Presentación Navideña- Christmas Show

2006-12-28T11:41:00.000-08:00

Some pictures of the first Manna Holiday Concert:

Hilary backstage getting some of the (really excited) girls ready for the show

Traditional Nica folklore dance

Me with some of the bailadoritas

The choir singing "Feliz Navidad"

Waiting to go on stage for the Nicaraguan folklore dance

ahora...

2006-12-28T08:28:00.000-08:00

Home from the Corn Islands! Originally, we were only planning on staying for five days. But after two days of lying on the white sand beaches, snorkeling, reading in hammocks, eating $4 meals of fresh lobster and shrimp, we decided to stay longer. La Islita, the smaller of the two Corn Islands, is so small it has no cars or roads. We didn't wear shoes the entire time we were there. Our thatched roof casitas (where we stayed) sat right on the ocean, and all the food on the island was either caught (FRESH seafood) or grown (pineapples, organic vegetables, etc). One of my favorite things to do on the island was knock down coconuts from the palm trees using big sticks, cut them open and eat fresh coconut. La islita is so undeveloped, with very few tourists. We made quick friends with some Little Corn locals (Dariel and Angelito), who taught us Creole phrases such as 'Ya herd, mon," and the typical Little Corn Island greeting which is "Alright?" (and in response) "Right here, mon."

Now I'm back in Managua, living with the Flores family until January. I live with two sisters (Olga y Dayana) and one brother (Macol). Emilito, Olga's 3-year-old son who also lives in the house, is absolutely hilarious. He can usually be found (1) running around the house with his new bike (2) playing with the dogs outside, or (3) swinging on doors- something he knows he's not supposed to do (he always looks so guilty when someone catches him in the act). My Nica mom's name is Lorena and father is Emilio, and we have a tiny little black lab puppy (3 weeks old!) named Clifford.

Our programs start up again in January, so until then, I'm just relaxing and hanging out in Cedro Galán- speaking lots of spanish, hand-washing all my clothes, and getting to know another beautiful Nica family.

Also, our website has officially been updated! Check it out at: www.mannaproject.org

Christmas Vacation

2006-12-14T10:36:00.000-08:00

Today is our last day of programs in Cedro for 2006! We're putting on a huge holiday show at 4:30 that Andie has organized. The little girls will be doing four traditional Nicaraguan folklore dances, around 15 kids are putting on a play, and about 20 others will be singing "Feliz Navidad," "Los Peces en el Rio." and "Cinco Pa' Las Doce," three popular Nicaraguan Chirstmas songs.

Tomorrow (Friday) at 5 am, Andie, Hilary and I are headed off to the Caribbean (The Corn Islands). We'll be there for 5 days spending 2 days on Big Corn Island and 3 days on Little Corn. I can't wait! I'll be back in Managua on the 20th.
To read more about Corn Islands, go to http://vianica.com/visit/corn-islands

hasta pronto

Last days of my homestay #1

2006-12-12T22:45:00.000-08:00

Sadly, I'm done with my homestay in Cedro Galán. I moved back into the Manna house a few days ago (but I'm not feeling too nostalgic just yet because I'll be living with another family in Cedro over Christmas and New Years)...

Top 10 list of my time with the Solis family:

(10) walks with Gregoria (my sister) around the community to meet her friends and learn all the "secret paths" in Cedro
(9) hand-made tortillas cooked over the open fire
(8) speaking Spanish all day, every day
(7) washing clothes in the concrete sink with mi madre, Racquel and then hanging them out to line-dry
(6) drinking coffee with Marcos (my Nicaraguan dad) under their guava tree
(5) the smell of the soap we used in our outdoor bucket shower- like clean linens and baby powder
(4) dancing with Yuvi to "Daddy Yankee" in the living room
(3) coloring and reading Disney books in Spanish with my sisters
(2) nightly conversations with Racquel and Marcos under the bright Nica stars
(1) truly being part of a family, even though I'm thousands of miles away from my own

Gregoria teaching her 6-month old cousin (we call him "Gordito") to walk

Racquel, my Nicaraguan mom, with Gregoria ironing in the background

The Solis home, with the little red cocina (kitchen) on the right

Yuvi and I and her peluche (teddy bear)

Yuvi and I

Yuvi peeling frijoles (that we just picked from the field!)

My clothes, freshly washed and line-drying

Typical meal: beans, rice, tomatoes and plátanos (plantains, kind of like bananas)

moving out

Last day with mi familia (missing Anielka and Yuvi who were climbing a tree in the yard)

Home stay with mi familia nicaragüense

2006-11-26T09:23:00.000-08:00

I currently live with a family in Cedro Galán, the community where Manna Project runs most of its programs. As a (new) part of Manna Project, year-long Program Directors get to live with a family in Cedro for 2 weeks- an opportunity that I’ve been excited for since I got here. My family in Cedro includes my mom (Racquel), my dad (Marcos) and three little sisters (14-year-old Gregoria, 12-year-old Anielka and 4-year old Yuvi- pronounced “you-bee”). I call Yuvi, the little one, my conejito (bunny rabbit) because she’s always wearing pig-tails. Marcos and Racquel are currently out of work; finding steady jobs in Nicaragua is extremely difficult. Our three-roomed house is made of concrete, we cook over an open fire in the cocina (a separate shelter built out of scrap metal), we shower in an outdoor four-walled enclosure using a bucket (hello, Kenya?) and wash dishes in the outdoor concrete sink. Our home is shaded by mango trees, banana trees, and coconut trees. Racquel often cooks gallo pinto (traditional Nicaraguan dish of beans and rice) in the kitchen while Yuvi runs around chasing chickens in the yard. Their spry, tiny 95-year-old abuela (grandmother) lives next door in a metal shack and comes over every morning to greet the family and ask how the night went. The first time I met Abuelita (which she insists I call her), she asked how old I was. I told her “22-years old.” She smiled, patted my hand and replied “la flor de la vida” which means, “the flower of life.”

Living in the community is just where I want to be. One of the many perks of living with a family is that my Spanish is improving rapidly thanks to hours and hours of conversation every day. Just last night, Racquel, Marcos and I sat outside under the stars for 3 hours chatting about everything from religion to funny stories about past gringos in Cedro. I love it. The past week, I’ve been to a quinceaños (the birthday party of a 15-year old girl, where the quinciñera “comes into womanhood”), two Nicaraguan church services (think candles, guitars and singing), a 200 person casamiento (wedding), I’ve learned how to make tortillas over an open fire and have had my hair styled by my 14-year-old sister every day.

I’m slowly realizing that living in and experiencing new cultures is my thing. I can’t seem to get enough of it. Soooo, I’ve decided to stay here in Nica for Christmas. I’m going to live with a family in Cedro Galán over Christmas break for another 2-3 weeks (with some traveling to Corn Islands and Ometepe Island on the side) while the other Manna members go home to the US. It’s going to be strange to be the only gringo in Cedro Galán for a while but to be honest, I can’t wait! I’ll take as much Nicaragua as I can get ☺.

Photos of the past week

2006-11-26T08:55:00.000-08:00

Quinceaños Photos:

Quinciñera (Carol, one of the girls on the soccer team I coach) dancing with her dad

Catholic quinceaños service

Homestay with my Nica family:

Gregoria, Anielka, Yuvi, Marcos and Racquel (my family). Yuvi's dressed up to be a flower girl

Our living room, connected to 2 bedrooms. Racquel and Marcos moved out of the master bedroom so I could have my own room. The five of them now share one room... (they wouldn't have it any other way)

My 14-year-old sister took a picture of me in my (huge) room one morning

Yuvi, mi conejito, coloring with some markers I brought

Our kitchen sink

El casamiento (wedding) photos:

Gregoria did my hair for the wedding :)

walking into the church

All the little jardineras (flower girls)

Racquel, Yuvi, Gregoria, Elisa (their cousin) and I at the reception

Bride and groom with the ring bearers

Alison, the ring bearer, at the reception. Her dress was bigger than she was!

Yuvi and I

Katy Update

2006-11-20T18:03:00.000-08:00

For those of you who are curious, Katy (the little girl at the Dump with the horrible rash on her face) is now doing much better! The pediatrician who's part of our Child Sponsorship Program gave Katy medication and after a week of treatment, we went back to the Dump to visit her. Her face is all better and Katy was all smiles again, this time minus the rash. It was incredible to see such a quick and tangible improvement in her health. Katy's case is physical evidence of the effectiveness of our Sponsorship program- and the look on her face when she recognized us at the Dump would have brought tears to anyone's eyes!

(Katy, with her mom, after 1 week on medication-compare this picture of her to the photo below)

Ode to the Hammock

2006-11-14T05:42:00.000-08:00

A simple haiku in honor of our beloved hammocks~

Swaying Back and Forth
Best Place to Watch the Sunset
Waffle Butt, Bummer.

by: Adam and Abbie

A day in the life

2006-11-09T01:48:00.000-08:00

Step by step, what I did today in Nicaragua.

(1) 8:00 am, I wake up to our rooster crowing in the back yard. The breeze from the ceiling fan in my room (a necessity for the hot Nicaraguan nights) mixes with the fresh morning air blowing in from my open window. At the Manna house we have eleven chickens, one rooster and ten recent college graduates caring for them. Our chicken coop is somewhat of a mess amd completely “trial and error." Oh well, we’re learning. If only we could get our confused rooster to stop crowing at 1:30 am...(We’re raising the chickens with the intention of one day donating them to families in Cedro Galán.)

(2) 8:10 am, Make coffee. Sit on our roof-top deck that overlooks our pool and palm-tree covered street and listen to the tropical birds while drinking Nicaraguan-grown, organic coffee.

view from our roof

(3) 8:30 am, Go on a jog in our hilly, green, bougainvillea-covered neighborhood. There’s this incredible path up our cobble-stone street that eventually turns into a dirt road, winding and twisting up a hill through the shade of banana trees. At the top of the hill there’s a great view of Lake Managua.

in our neighborhood

trail where I jog

(4) 9:30 am, come home, make breakfast in our all-too American kitchen and take a shower. (The shower, by the way, is one of my favorite parts of the Manna house. It’s huge, has a high window that overlooks palm trees in our yard and is tiled in a bright, Latin, blue and white mosaic pattern. The water is cold- we don’t have hot water in the house- but it’s refreshing and a welcome retreat from the hot Nicaraguan air).

(5) 10 am, drive to La Chureca (see below) with Dan, Hilary, Scott and Adam. We spend about four hours at La Chureca, walking around, visiting families and playing with children who are in our Child Sponsorship Program. Entering La Chureca (we refer to it as “The Dump”) the pungent, slightly acidic smell of burning trash fills my lungs. Kids, barefoot in the piles of waste, chase after our van, giggling and squealing as we drive by. We park our van at the La Chureca clinic. I go inside to see my favorite nurse, Esmerelda (we call her “Esmo”). After a quick kiss on the cheek, I ask her about Moises, a little boy we took to the pediatrician a week ago. Esmo says he’s doing much better after taking anti-parasite medication.

(6) 10:30 am, we’re walking around the dump and I see a little girl and boy collecting trash for their family. The girl is wearing a white lace dress with tiny red roses on the collar and a pink hat. What a site: collecting trash at the Managua City Dump in the scorching heat, wearing this adorable lace dress. Part of me wanted to cry, the other part smiled because at the age of 7, I would have worn the same exact thing (dresses, always- no matter what the occasion). I recognize a kindred spirit in this tiny 7-year-old girl, who’s wearing lace while collecting trash at the City Dump.

collecting trash in her white, lace dress

(7) 10:40 am, I go to see my friend Louisa and her family. Louisa is 10-years-old and lives in a metal shack with eight other people. Today their home is full of trash; trash the father has collected the past week and is waiting to sell… he’ll make about $10 for an entire week’s worth of work. Bags full of metal, glass and plastic bottles surround me. It smells like rotting banana peels. I see Louisa’s aunt sitting in a lime-green hammock, rocking her beautiful 1-year-old baby girl. She greets me with a kiss on the cheek. Her big, brown eyes stare into mine. She’s worried about something. “Louisa está enferma.” Glancing over to the metal shack, I see Louisa in a shady corner. Her left foot is propped up on a plastic chair. José, the adorable 3-year-old brother, jumps out of nowhere, giggling, and hugs my leg. I scoop him up and walk over to Louisa, “Que pasó chiquita? What happened?” Louisa points to her foot; it’s swollen and infected, about three times its normal size. She explains to me that she fell and scraped the top of her foot on a piece of metal trash. White pus oozes out of the large gash, coating red, raw, infected-looking skin. “You need to go to the doctor,” I say, “Have you been to the clinic yet?” She shakes her head no. The gash on her foot oozes. José (a little chatter box) is still in my arms, playing with my hair. I suggest she go to the clinic today and Louisa’s mom agrees to take her. Before I leave, I get a cloth to clean the little pieces of dirt out of the infected wound using soap and water. I couldn’t help myself.

Louisa's mother with her baby in the green hammock

Louisa (second from right), José (second from left) and their two little sisters

(8) 1 pm, we leave the dump. Drive 30 minutes home. Once at home, I wash my face with apricot face soap and almost cry (1) because it smells so good (2) because of my incredible appreciation for this small luxury and (3) because I’m able to wash The Dump off of my face so easily- physically, the smell of rotting food and burning trash swirls down the sink, disappears. Mentally, The Dump always lingers- the memories, the smells, the people, and the disparities…

(9) 1:15 pm, eat a typical lunch (beans, rice with peas and corn, and pico de gallo) and spend two hours working on Manna Programming stuff (prepare for spring break groups, coordinate a US Medical team to volunteer in Managua, create a flier for our Child Sponsorship Program, etc.)

getting some work done

(10) 3:40 pm, walk 30 minutes into the Cedro Galán community where Manna Project has most of its programs. Almost attacked by three “yippie” little dogs. I go to my friend, Sandra’s house. She’s 21, has a little 2-year-old boy and is starting our beginner’s English class. We sit in rocking chairs on her bright-blue porch, which is surrounded by palm trees, purple flowers and banana trees. I chat with Sandra and three of her aunts for a good two hours; we cover everything from the elections, to their kids, to Colorado (they’ve never seen snow!).

(11) 6:00 pm, walk home, eat dinner (taquitos! mmm). Play with our dog, Sydney and laugh at pictures of Neil taken on our most recent weekend camping trip to the beach for his “Man of Manna” shot. We’re making a (hilarious) calendar of all the Manna Men as a fundraiser.

our dog, Sydney.

playing with our "pet" bird after dinner

(12) 7:00 pm, we all drive to Cedro Galán to teach our beginner’s English class (about 25 students).

(13) 9:00 pm, come home, check email, finish up lesson plans for the next day (literacy class and music class), listen to Scott play the guitar and relax.

Scott after falling asleep with his guitar

(14) 11:00 pm, off to sleep. Chris sings me a lullabye before bed (just kidding).

The entire Manna crew, posing sweetly.

Earring Magic

2006-11-01T14:57:00.000-08:00

This is Katy. She’s four years old and lives in La Chureca (see below for description). Katy is one of 40 children in our Child Sponsorship Program, which means she receives monthly supplies of nutrient-rich formula, oatmeal, multi-vitamins and unlimited pediatrician visits. Hilary and I went to La Chureca last week to take her to the local pediatrician. She needed to see a doctor about the severe rash on her little face.

When we got to La Chureca, Katy and her mom were patiently waiting for us at the clinic. Katy gave Hilary and I big hugs and eagerly told us “it’s my birthday!” Katy has this SMILE that is so huge it literally takes up half her face. When Hilary and I gave Katy her birthday card and present, Katy let out this incredible giggle- her adorable dimples and sparkling eyes lit up her entire face.

The present: the awesome troll earrings she’s wearing in the picture. Hot pink, florescent blue hair on naked trolls – basically, too good to be true. I swear, the second she put on those earrings, her confidence factor went up 100%. Katy was struttin’ her stuff, holding her head high to show off her new jewelry. Hil and I laughed as she transformed into “Miss Thang,” laughing and proud, right in front of our eyes.

Those troll earrings, however frightening they may be, were magic. They allowed Katy to forget about the painful sores on her face for a few minutes; sores that are actually caused by a bacteria, made possible by malnutrition and mal-hygiene that comes with living in the City Dump. It was amazing, for a few minutes, Katy wasn’t thinking of the red, pussy bumps on her face; she was given a moment to just be a goofy 4-year-old who’s excited about her new birthday present.

Mi Corazón

2006-10-24T16:30:00.000-07:00

In Kenya, the malnourished children I saw had lighter hair with an orange tint. Sometimes they had round, white, chalky-looking spots on their scalps or rashes on their arms and legs.

Here in Nicaragua, malnourished children have light-colored, almost yellow hair. It’s striking to see a little baby with beautiful, brown skin and a shock of blonde hair. This happens when the body does not get enough nutrients to sustain the production of melanosomes in the hair follicles. Rashes on the arms and legs are also common signs of malnutrition.

In both Kenya and Nicaragua, malnourished children have skinny arms and legs and appear frail and weak. These children are alarmingly small. They don’t have the crazy-happy-kid energy of healthy, well-fed children.

These images: the lighter hair, the skin rashes, the bony arms and legs,
Replay in my mind over and over.
The bones, the rashes.
The evidence of need,
keep me up at night, infuriate me, sadden me,
Motivate me.

These kids are why I’m here.

Life Lessons from the Managua City Dump

2006-10-24T15:43:00.000-07:00

Mariana and José (kids in the picture) live at the Managua City Dump, “La Chureca,” with their family. Their home (like others in the dump) is made out of scrap metal, tied together with pieces of barbed wire. Their family makes money by sifting through the trash, collecting whatever recyclables the garbage trucks leave daily. On a very good day, a family will collect a pound of recyclables. Each pound of recyclables is worth 4 to 6 cordobas; 18 cordobas is equivalent to about one dollar.

Entering the City Dump, one is taken aback by the smell of burning trash. The blazing heaps of litter produce a smoky haze that engulfs the seemingly endless piles of garbage. The heavy, pungent stench of burning paper and rotting food fills my lungs. With each deep breath my chest burns and I cough- my own bodily response to the caustic air is a reminder why respiratory illnesses are so common among the La Chureca community.

Over 1500 people live at the City Dump. 53% of the population at La Chureca is under the age of 18. From daybreak to dusk children and adults spend their days searching through the piles of trash, looking for objects of value: aluminum, plastic and glass. Plastic, cardboard, and rotten foods sustain the families that live and work in the mountains of burning waste. It’s nothing but heart breaking to see a little 4-year-old eat a piece of moldy bread straight out of the dumpster.

I’ve spent a lot of time in La Chureca. I go at least once a week for many hours (more if I can) to work at a clinic or help out with a feeding program sponsored by a Nicaraguan organization called “Juntos Contigo.” I always leave the dump with a renewed sense of perspective. La Chureca inspires me.

From an outsider’s view, the sites and smells at the dump are incredibly sad. The visible malnutrition in the kids and the obvious lack of health care can be described as nothing but devastating. The unnecessary health problems in La Chureca are a constant reminder of why I am here working in Nicaragua. However, after spending much time in the community playing with the kids and interacting with elders, some of whom have lived in La Chureca for over 35 years, it is obvious that La Chureca is not a sad place.

It is an amazing realization that many people from the US (with every luxury in the world) could take a hint from people living in literally, a dump. At La Chureca, people don’t worry about small, insignificant things. They spend time with their families, live very relaxed lives, laugh often and have a positive, happy outlook on life. I don’t want to generalize too much, nor do I want to put the La Chureca community in the typical “poor but happy” box, but I just want to express how much I’m learning from the individuals who I’ve interacted with at the Managua City Dump. Days consist of grueling, back-breaking work sifting through trash and people still maintain positive attitudes. Families are as close-knit as any I’ve ever known. Depression is very rare in La Chureca, despite the living and working conditions. Time not at work is spent with loved ones- laughing and chatting and simply living. Life in La Chureca- for those who live there- isn’t so bad. To me, families in La Chureca have it figured out. Whether by choice or by circumstance, people in La Chureca have their priorities straight- they live surrounded by loved ones, and don’t focus on the negatives- and it’s inspiring.

Our job is to improve access to the basic human rights in La Chureca- specifically healthcare, clean food, and education- not to judge the community for how they live… no matter how dismal the circumstances (from the outside) may seem.

Surfing Serenity

2006-10-19T10:10:00.000-07:00

5:00 am, the four of us load the van quietly. I yawn and rub my eyes, adjusting the swimsuit strap that’s tied around my neck. Streaks of orange sun creep above the horizon, morning mist condenses on the palm trees in our font yard. It’s so quiet. No laughing, loud, lively little ones like we’re used to in literacy lessons. The hush of morning is a welcome retreat.

A cup of coffee, 2 surfboards, sunscreen, towels, and we’re off to the beach. It’s our Wednesday morning routine. For the next 5 hours our only concern is catching a wave in the salty, warm Pacific Ocean.

Day breaks in Nicaragua and we’re in the ocean riding rolling rip tides. Reconnecting. Reviving. Ready to return to reality, refreshed.

WELCOME TO NICA

2006-10-18T12:51:00.001-07:00

So I'm living in Nicaragua... and I love it. I’ll be here until summer 2007.

Quick background about Nicaragua, where I'm working, where I'm living and what I'm doing here:

NICARAGUA-
Located in Central America. It's the second poorest country in the Western Hemisphere (next to Haiti). It borders Costa Rica (to the south) and Honduras (to the north). The climate is tropical (humid and hot, with the exception of nights when it cools down slightly). Its western coastline is on the Pacific Ocean, while the east side of the country is on the Caribbean Sea. Nicaragua's economy has historically been based on the export of cash crops such as bananas, coffee and tobacco.

During the pool party we had at our house for the girls' soccer team.

MANNA PROJECT INTERNATIONAL-
I'm working for a non-profit organization called Manna Project International, which was founded 3 years ago by some Vanderbilt graduates. Basically, Manna Project is an international service opportunity for recent college graduates. One of its purposes is to "connect and encourage communities of young adults to collectively apply their passions and education through service to communities in need." In a nutshell, this means that I live with 9 other recent college graduates (ages 22-25) and run various programs in an impoverished area in Nicaragua called Cedro Galan. Currently, the 9 Manna members in Nicaragua are running a Literacy Program, Sports and Recreation Program, Microfinance Program, Health Program, Child Sponsorship Program, art lessons, english lessons, a feeding program, music lessons and other smaller activities. I am involved with the Health Program (I'm beginning a women's health program, and we're also wanting to set up a network that will bring US doctors to volunteer at a local clinic), I co-coach the girls' soccer team, and am helping out with Child Sponsorship at La Chureca Clinic (we give milk, oatmeal, vitamins, etc. to extremely malnourished children living in the local dump- more on that later). Check out Manna's website at www.mannaproject.org. We're in the process of re-designing it right now... so in a few weeks it will be brand new.

Jordan, one of the Manna members with the kids during music class.

MANAGUA, NICARAGUA-
The city I'm living in is called Managua. It's the capital of Nicaragua, is about 1 hour from the beach- Pacific Ocean side. It's located in the west of Nicaragua, near Lake Managua. Managua is considered to be the safest city in Central America, doesn't have any street names (super confusing) and suffered a massive earthquake in the 1970's. Most of the damage was never fixed due to a politically unstable government, so downtown Managua still consists of ruins from the earthquake in 1972.

I live in a (beautiful) house with the other Manna members. My favorite parts of the house are: (1) the roof, which looks out over our palm-tree covered street, (2) the pool and pool house in our back yard, where we host pool parties for kids in the community (3) the blue-tiled shower in my room (there’s only cold water, but a cool shower feels so incredible after a hot day’s work). My least favorite part of the house is the chicken coop in the backyard that is home to 11 chickens and 1 annoying rooster who basically wakes us all up at 5:00 am. Currently, we have 2 adorable baby chicks, Tex junior and Jimmy junior (the original Tex and Jimmy are no longer with us thanks to a possum incident).

View of our backyard- pool, deck, pool house, hammocks...

PROGRAM GOALS FOR MY YEAR IN NICARAGUA-
1. create a Women’s group in Cedro Gallan, (includes women’s health education classes, group discussions, exercise classes, etc.)
2. form a program at a healthcare clinic in La Chureca that will allow doctors and medical students from the US to come volunteer in Managua. Create an easy way for medical volunteers to work in and around the Cedro community.
3. Create a program that will channel donated medical supplies from the US to La Chureca clinic
4. fundraise for the new Manna/ Project HOPE clinic in Managua
5. begin a child immunization program in the Cedro community and couple it with child health classes
6. streamline the Child Sponsorship Program

I’ve already been here 3 weeks. Time in Nicaragua flies…

To see all my photos, go to www.snapfish.com
Sign in as abbie@mannaproject.org
Password: Nicaragua