Reflections on my Cell Phone

What would we Peace Corps Volunteers do without cell phones? Although Nicaragua is still a developing country, it has been able to make one of those infamous “technology leaps,” as it goes from having limited to no phone service immediately to cell phones, skipping the land line phone in-between. You see leaps like this with internet as well: the country has no internet whatsoever, and then the next day you see someone has a Netbook laptop and wireless connection in their house. No slow dial-up modems here! Developed countries did all the dirty work and now technology is cheaper and faster, making it accessible to the masses.

Probably nowhere is this more evident in Nicaragua than with cell phones. Just about every Nicaragua, rich or poor, young or old, has a cell phone. When phones start at about $10, they’re not too expensive, even by Nicaraguan standards. Every Nica teen can be found chateando – sending text messages back and forth to friends, in their spare time. Often you’ll see a person who looks otherwise somewhat poor (used clothing with stains and rips, the hardened look of someone who works in the field, strong calves from hauling water)… but then you notice that, Hey – isn’t that a $100 camera phone in their hand?? Nicaraguans place great importance on their cell phones.

Although cell phones have arrived in all their glory, sadly cell phone etiquette has not. Here are few informal “rules” that Nicaraguans like to follow. 1. Whenever your phone rings (and yes, you will always hear it ring because it is NEVER to be put on silent mode or turned off), you WILL answer it. No matter if you are at work, teaching a class, in a doctor’s appointment, riding a horse, driving a bus or in a meeting with the Director of Peace Corps: that call must be answered. And if possible, answer it while you are still in the room in which the meeting is taking place – just ask everyone’s pardon and try and make your conversation short, but of course don’t lower your voice. The person on the other end of the line might not hear you! 2. As mentioned before, driving while talking or texting is perfectly acceptable. One’s social life doesn’t wait! 3. It is perfectly acceptable to ask to see a friend or even a stranger’s phone and search through their text message history. You don’t have anything to hide now, do you?? 4. Whenever you are without music (out in the villages, in a car without a stereo, on a farm…) you must play the songs stored on your cell phone at full volume. Background music here is a must, no matter where you are. And you must strive to have a well-rounded music selection: ABBA, Air Supply, the BeeGee’s, bachata, salsa, meringue, reggaeton, and of course, the Titanic theme song.

One of the annoying things about the cell phone companies here (there are only two, “Claro” and “Movistar”), is that it is very expensive to have a cell phone, compared to the U.S. Here, cell phones work on a pre-paid system. You go to any corner store, restaurant, grocery store, etc. to put some dollars on your phone every week. Calls to other Nicaraguan cell phones can cost up to $0.25/minute! Sometimes there are “promotions” where you can send 500 text messages for $2 or something, but I usually end up spending quite a bit on my cell phone every month. All Nicaraguans understand this, and the constant complaint you’ll hear is, “Ay, no ando saldo!” “Dang it! I don’t have any cell phone credit!” This is often a lie; since the person is probably just being pinche (cheap) and wants you to make the call for them on your phone (you’re a gringa right? That means you have lots of money, yes?) Also, phone calls are made very short to the point of almost feeling rude. Both parties in the conversation know that time is money and only the important details are shared before the conversation is rushed to a close. Here is a sample conversation between the Head Nurse at my Health Center, Hileana and I (she is calling me):

Me: “Hello?”
Hileana: “Hello Penny – you know what? The pregnant women’s’ meeting today has to be cancelled. There’s an emergency here at the Health Center…got to go. Talk later.”
Me: “Uhh…okay? I’m out here in the middle of the village waiting for you… Are you alright? What happened??”
Hilean: “Adios Penny!”
Click.

Hm… Well, it looks like if I want to find out what happened in this story, I’ll have to call her back. Tricky little devil – she’s not going to get me to use my credit! It goes without saying that the person who is making the call has complete power over the conversation: what the topic is, how long it lasts and who does the talking. It’s their money after all!

In Peace Corps, we use cell phones as our main mode of communication to the main office, the safety and security officer, and of course to other volunteers. Since text messages are much cheaper than making an actual call, we usually communicate by texting. Some of the texts we send and receive I’m sure would be quite confusing and/or hilarious when seen by someone who is not in our inner Peace Corps Nicaragua circle. Here are some variations of texts that I have sent and received:

WAS JUST WOKEN UP BY A BAT FLYING AROUND MY HOUSE. CURRENTLY COWERING UNDER MY MOSQUITO NET. DO THEY SUCK HUMAN BLOOD??!!

JUST HAD 7th BOWEL MOVEMENT OF THE DAY. NOT NORMAL, RIGHT?

NO RUNNING WATER FOR THREE DAYS. SILVER LINING: DON’T NEED TO WEAR SUNSCREEN ANYMORE SINCE I’M FORMING A PROTECTIVE LAYER OF DIRT.

JUST SAW AN OLD WOMAN ON THE BUS WITH A USED T-SHIRT THAT SAID “I LOST MY PHONE NUMBER…CAN I HAVE YOURS??” NOT SURE IF I SHOULD TELL HER WHAT IT MEANS OR NOT.

OMG-JUST FOUND OUT THAT TIGER WOODS HAD AN AFFAIR! DID YOU KNOW THAT??
(Five minutes later….)
OH WAIT…I GUESS THAT HAPPENED LIKE 2 WEEKS AGO…

JUST GOT PUKED ON BY A BABY ON THE BUS…GREAT WAY TO START THE DAY.

I’M GOING TO BE LATE TO THE MEETING; I’M BEING HELD HOSTAGE IN MY HOUSE BY A STRAY DONKEY THAT IS BLOCKING MY DOORWAY, EATING PLANTS IN MY FRONT YARD.

WHAT’S THAT RHYME ABOUT POISONOUS SNAKES AGAIN??? IS IT RED AFTER YELLOW KILLS A FELLOW? RED AND BLACK, OKAY JACK?? TEXT BACK QUICK!

JUST SLAUGHTERED AND DEPLUMED BY FIRST CHICKEN. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TODAY??? :)

Well, that’s all for now. A new blog entry will be coming soon about my Holy Week vacation which starts tomorrow. I’m planning to canoe the San Juan River which separates Costa Rica and Nicaragua with a group of friends. It’s like Nicaragua’s mini-version of the Panama Canal. Should be beautiful!

Riding in trucks with Nicaraguans

Today I went to the nearby city of Estelí, “The Diamond” of the north of Nicaragua. It’s one of my favorite cities in Nicaragua. There are a few nice restaurants that serve some good gringo treats like wheat bread, homemade yogurt, and my personal favorite; a cucumber and celery juice drink (it’s amazing!) I was running the usual errands – going to the bank, getting my hair cut, shopping at the market, etc. when I ran into some neighbors from my site – Don Silvio and his wife Doña Yelva. They too were running errands. Their family owns a successful restaurant/pool business and they also have a fritanga where they sell fried food like tacos, enchiladas and plantain chips every night. They go to Estelí weekly and fill their pick-up truck to the brim with groceries to supply their little business. People who own vehicles in Nicaragua are rare, at least outside of Managua. There are not too many cars and trucks in my site and everyone knows who owns one. Most people who own a vehicle have a family member who works in the U.S. and sends money back, which is the case with Yelva and Silvio. They’re wonderful people to have as neighbors, always giving me free tortillas and juice. I sometimes watch telenovelas with one of the younger daughters in the evening, getting my fill of Spanish soap opera drama.
I chatted with my neighbors a bit on the street in Estelí– it was mid-morning and they were just beginning their errands, as was I. I was tickled that I actually recognize some people on the street. I’m realizing that I recognize more and more people now as I walk around town, in the classrooms when I give classes… I guess it’s a sign that I’ve been in my site almost a year. Don Silvio and his Doña Yelva offered to give me a ride back to town that afternoon in the back of their truck. I agreed wholeheartedly. Anything is better than riding in the crowded, sweaty, and slow old school buses that we use here for transportation (you may recall a previous blog about it).
At 3 pm I met up with Silvio and Yelva again. By this time their weathered but cared for pick-up was weighted down with large sacks of potatoes, tomatoes, melons, mangoes, onions, cucumbers, watermelon, papaya, pineapple, ground meat, chicken filets, paper towel, straws, paper plates, and eight 5-gallon buckets full of cooking oil. I wasn’t sure there was going to be room for me in the back of their truck with all their loot, but they managed to squeeze in a plastic chair for me to sit on. As we started down the road, I felt like I was in a county fair parade – sitting high atop all of these fruits and vegetables as we slowly passed people staring at me in the street (no matter what I do in Nicaragua, I’m stared at).
Travel in the back of pick-up trucks is very common here. I’m pretty sure that Peace Corps doesn’t allow volunteers to officially do it, but that doesn’t stop anyone. If you didn’t ride in the back of a pick-up, you simply wouldn’t get anywhere. Ironically, for my work at the Health Center here, that is our main mode of transportation. When we go on visits out to the remote villages, up to 15 nurses will cram in the back of the poor old Ministry of Health pick-up, hanging on for dear life as we jolt up and down over rocky roads and through rivers.
I’ve really grown to enjoy rides in the back of pick-ups, and it’s been a while since I’ve had “the pleasure.” As I settled in for the 45 minute ride back to town, I took a bite of the sweet mandarin orange that Doña Yelva tossed me as we took off. She’s a nice motherly type – constantly in the kitchen cooking with an apron on. She always has a smile for me and is always game to try whatever I’ve tried my hand at cooking or baking. She especially liked the banana bread I made a couple weeks ago. She and her family have built a mini food empire in our little town and make most food for meetings, luncheons and social events.
The wind is refreshing due to recent rains, which is odd since it’s the middle of the dry season. Nevertheless, everyone has been enjoying the temporary fresh feeling in the air and the lack of dust. The weather is cool, probably in the low 70s in the shade. I tied my hair up tight in a bun to avoid the agony of combing it out later after a thorough brushing by the wind, and stuck my sunglasses on to protect my eyes. Bugs were flying into my cheeks like torpedoes.
The wind was strong and carried back to me the scents of the cargo we were carrying. I caught whiffs of pineapple and mango. The cooking oil next to me started to slosh back and forth and through a leak, some oil found its way onto my shoes. Darn it. Hand washing clothes is one thing, but I hate hand-washing shoes.
As we moved farther away from the city and into the mountains, I shifted my gaze outward. In a crowded bus, you don’t have the luxury of a view, so some of the landscape looked foreign although I had passed it uncountable times before. Because of the lack of rain, the small mountains were dry and dusty. Shades of brown speckled the scenery, the monotony being broken at times by a lush green tobacco farm. The north of Nicaragua is known for many crops: coffee, corn, beans, and tobacco. Tobacco farms are some of the most luxurious – the big bucks the crop pulls in allows the owners to have vast plantations and pretty buildings. The large green tobacco leafs looked out of place among the dry expanse of dust.
As we sped along the Pan-American Highway going north, more smells came to me. Manure from cows, the smell of burning trash, burning plastic, burning firewood, burning leaves… My nose for burning materials has grown rather keen in Nicaragua. We drove through the smells of pigs, horses, and truck exhaust. As soon as I smelled one thing, it disappeared only to be replaced by another. We curved around the sinuous highway, winding our way up into the mountains.
Many other trucks passed us with passengers in them like me, hitching rides in the back. Their heads were covered with towels or scarves and they tucked down into the bed of the truck. When we passed through a shaded area of the highway, the temperature did drop quite a bit. Wait a second, were those goose bumps on my arms?? No, false alarm. It’s not that cold in Nicaragua. I stuck on my sweatshirt anyway to cut down on the wind.
As we neared our town I began to see all the usual landmarks; restaurants, bus stops, and churches that lined the highway. We had to slow down or swerve to avoid missing dogs who wandered onto the road or the occasional cow. Finally, we reached the turn-off for town. As we drove the few kilometers to reach the house, Silvio and Yelva started to recognize people. Honks of greeting were exchanged as were yells of “¡Adios!” We pulled up to our street and I hopped out. Safe and sound, and in record time. “Did you watch all the food?” Don Silvio asked jokingly. “Don’t worry,” I replied, “nothing flew out.” I didn’t mention that just as we had taken off, a large bag of fried pig skin had been picked up by the wind and smacked me in the face. A small price to pay for a scenic ride through the mountains.

Cooking with Soy

For those of you readers who know me personally, you know that I’m not a great cook. I do enjoy baking, but growing up with a super-Mom who was an amazing chef sort of hindered my cooking abilities. You’d think that this would have caught up to me before now, but living in the U.S. on my own during college, this was never a problem. There were always fresh vegetables available to throw together a good salad or pre-made food at Fred Meyer (one of my favorite stores). In Peace Corps, now that I’m no longer living with a host family and I’m officially “on my own”, my lack of cooking knowledge can be frustrating. I’m learning some basic staples, slowly but surely: beans, pasta sauces, stir fry, etc.

I’ve also been sharing my baking knowledge with some friends here who are lucky enough to own ovens. We’ve made banana bread, cakes, cookies… I’ve introduced them to the novel concept of wheat flour. They’re slowly coming around, but prefer their white bread for now.

In return, Nicaraguan women are always eager to teach me how to make Nicaraguan food. I’ve made corn pudding, tamales, soups, pasta dishes, tacos, fruit juices and even pizza with them. A Nicaraguan woman (or 13 year old girl for that matter) is a thing to see in the kitchen. In Nicaragua, as in many Latin countries, the kitchen is still mainly the woman’s domain. They are groomed from about the time they can walk to run errands, cut vegetables, pick out meat at the market, fry rice, bake beans…Each household has a certain ways of peeling oranges, certain rules for cooking (no eating Nacatamales - a traditional dish - before sleeping), and no citrus when you’re sick (!)

In my quest to learn how to cook for myself (since tomato and onion salads and oatmeal can get a little old, even I’ll admit), and in an effort to improve nutrition practices with local mothers, I’ve started cooking with soy. Soy is nothing new to my food vocabulary – I am a vegetarian – but in the U.S. I always bought pre-made soy milk, tofu and soy meat. In Nicaragua, you’ve gotta start with the actual soy BEAN. I guess I knew they existed: edamame, roasted soy nuts… But I never thought much about how the bean was changed into the milk, the meat, or into soy sauce. I first learned about cooking with soy through Peace Corps – many volunteers teach local women how to use soy beans to add protein and omega-3 fatty acids to their diets. Soy beans have twice the amount of protein in them than red beans and they also have the same type of fat (omega-3) that salmon does. Soy also contains no cholesterol and is rich in fiber, iron, vitamin B and calcium.

Needless to say, it’s a great food, especially in nutritionally inadequate Nicaraguan diets. And it’s cheap (even by Nicaraguan standards), $0.50/pound. When red beans can often rise radically in price depending on the season, soy beans can be an economical substitute.

So, how do I get all that good food out of this hard little bean, you ask? Well, after putting together about ten soy “workshops” with various groups in my site, cooking with soy is one thing that I do feel pretty comfortable with. I’ll walk you through the steps. Below is a group of ladies making soy that I worked with. They´re all mothers of special needs children. 1. Buy one pound of soy. Clean the soy beans, picking out any twigs, rocks and dirt that come with it. Wash the beans with water, rubbing them with your hands, changing the water three times or so.

2.Put the beans in lots of water to soak for 12 hours.

3. Wash again, rubbing with your hands to take off the outer shell of the bean (although this is optional).

4. Grind the beans at the local mill (if you’re in Nicaragua), or with a hand mill, or even using a blender with water. Mills are everywhere in Nicaragua – a fellow volunteer once equated the number of mills here the prevalence of Starbucks’ in downtown Manhattan. They are mainly used for grinding corn for tortilla and for coffee.

5. For every pound of beans, add one gallon of water to the ground beans.

6. Using a cheesecloth or fine strainer, strain the ground beans from the water, saving the water in a separate container.

7. This liquid you now have is the SOY MILK! The leftover ground beans are SOY MEAT! So easy, I know…You can understand why I like doing this.

From here, you usually boil the soy milk, constantly stirring. Some people like to add vanilla extract, sugar, cinnamon, etc. to give it flavor. Nicaraguans like to add Maizena which I think is like a cornstarch, to make a pudding. You can also blend the milk with bananas to make a smoothie. Or mix it with rice and sugar to make Arroz con leche. Others use the milk to make flan, or yogurt. To make soy yogurt, add ¼ cup of yogurt bacteria (or just plain yogurt) to every liter of milk. Heat the milk and yogurt mixture slowly until it’s the temperature of “blood” (gross, I know). Take it off of the heat and put it in a clean container and cover with a towel for 3-5 hours until it takes form. Refrigerate. You can add fruit or other flavorings to make it tasty. Above is the group of mothers enjoying the soy food we made.

Using the soy meat, you can mix it with spices and vegetables to make “sausage.” You can also make fried soy cakes by adding an egg, some flour, veggies and spices and forming little round cakes. Another recipe I have calls for adding a few bananas, an egg and sugar and cinnamon to the soy meat and then frying the cakes to make a sweeter treat.

Last week, during my “volunteer visit” which I wrote about in the previous blog, we made soy chili, which is by far my favorite soy recipe. We added the soy meat to sautéed onion and garlic, lots of tomatoes, tomato paste, chili powder, green and red peppers, and some water and cooked (probably for about 40 minutes). (The soy meat takes a while to cook – otherwise it turns out a bit crunchy). Then we added a few cups of cooked red beans. YUM!! I’m sure it would be good with some cheddar cheese on top, but of course that’s not available down here except in Managua.

In the future, I’m planning on making soy flour, soy cheese (aka tofu), and one of my favorite snacks, roasted soy beans. It’s pretty fun making something from scratch. I also have plans to make my own peanut butter, and maybe even my own chocolate. I get inspired by other volunteers who have cooking classes in their sites and are experimenting. Peanut butter is a “value added” product that some Agriculture volunteers are trying to promote in communities that produce peanuts.

Above is my aerobics class group enjoying the soy milk we made (also in the photo, second from the right, is my site-mate, Kristen, a Small Business volunteer). I’m sorry I don’t have more photos of making soy, when my computer was stolen in December, a lot of my photos were lost. I encourage you to try making some soy – the beans are available in the bulk section at most stores. I found it in my small hometown in Alaska while I was home in January, so it should be available pretty much everywhere.

That’s all for now. I’ll keep you updated on my cooking adventures!

Learning the ropes

So, I guess I am officially a “veteran” in Peace Corps Nicaragua. I’m almost halfway through my service (14 months left!) The new group of Community Health volunteers arrived in the country in January and are in training until they will be sworn-in in April, just as I was.
I have been involved in helping out with some training sessions for the new group and it’s fun to have some new faces in our little Peace Corps community. Last week, for three days I had a trainee visit me in my site. Each trainee was assigned to a different volunteer to see what “real” Peace Corps volunteer life is like. When you’re in training, it sometimes feels like you’re in an isolated bubble with Peace Corps babying you every step of the way. There is little freedom and you often wonder, “What will Peace Corps really be like?” The “volunteer visit” is supposed to help clear up questions trainees have about service and help them visualize volunteer life.
I hosted a girl named Katie. We got along really well – we’re both optimistic and outgoing. I planned a full schedule of events for our days. We had a youth group meeting, did some surveys in the health center, gave a Malaria/Dengue talk to the waiting patients, gave classes in both the elementary and secondary school, gave a training on HIV/AIDS to a pregnant/lactating mothers group, and made soy milk and soy chili from soy beans. Yum!! Here is a photo of our group, my site mate, Kristen, a Small Business volunteer also helped out. They put in a little too much chili powder for these Nicaraguan ladies' mild tastes, but we thought it was great! She also accompanied me to the aerobics class that I teach and sweated along with the ladies and we made some good meals together in my kitchen. It was nice having someone around for a few days and it was fun to introduce her to things in Nicaragua that were completely new to her; new foods, fruits, words, concepts… I didn’t realize how much I had learned until I started sharing with someone who had just arrived in-country. In the past year I have come a long way. I’ve adjusted to all the things that turned me off at first and I have adapted to living in a small town in Nicaragua.
I remember how I was last year on my “volunteer visit” – all wide-eyed and inquisitive. Everything was so new and exciting. I was also super motivated and a little over-eager – that toned down after the first few months. I wanted to be a “super volunteer” – building clinics, single-handedly wiping out AIDS in Nicaragua, eradicating Malaria and malnutrition... After a little while though, reality sets in and you realize that you’re just one person and two years isn’t really that long. There is so much you have to learn in order to be successful; it takes about a year just to be comfortable with your counterpart relationships and how things “work” to actually get real projects started. You’ll also be let down a lot – adjusting to the work style here and the pace of life is a big part of adapting. Accepting the fact that not everyone will love you is also hard. That’s especially relevant in a country like Nicaragua with a rocky past with the U.S.
As this new group of trainees prepares to begin their service in April, the Community Health volunteer group who arrived the year before my group will be leaving. It’s going to be sad to see all those familiar faces leave. I know it won’t be the last time I see many of them – it’s not like we don’t live in the same country – however it will mean that our shared experience of Nicaragua living will come to an end. I’ll especially miss Matt and Jess – a married couple who lived in my departmental capital. I always remember going to their house and being greeted by their huge white dog, Astro (see photo of them and Astro above). They also adopted a cat here and both animals will be going back to the U.S. with them. Matt and Jess both had lots of experience and did some great work in their two years. I really admire them and will miss their advice and their open and friendly personalities. I am often jealous of Peace Corps married couples – they always seem to be doing amazing projects and working together. It makes sense – you have someone to bounce ideas off of and two people are more creative than one. So, bon voyage to “Nica 46” (the outgoing group”) and welcome to “Nica 52” (the newbies)!
The volunteer who visited me, Katie, and I:

Almost half-way… projects in-mind and underway

Well, I’ve adjusted to being back in Nicaragua now. The first few bucket showers were a cold wake-up call (literally). It was nice to come “back home” after vacation to my little pink house and visit with my neighbors and friends in the community. They were all excited to hear what I had done back in the states and they all loved the little gifts (candy, hand lotion, “Alaska” souvenirs) I brought back to share.
Some news: a new Peace Corps Nicaragua community health volunteer group has just arrived in the country. It’s hard to believe that my group arrived one year ago! I’m involved in helping train the new group by giving a two sessions: working with youth and community analysis tools. This new Peace Corps group will be in training until April when they will be officially sworn-in as volunteers (just like I was last April). The sad part is that the health group who arrived one year before I did will be leaving – their two years of service is up and their replacements will take over their sites. I’ve gotten to know the older health group pretty well and will miss them when they leave. They had a lot of good resources in that group: a previous nutrition college professor, two married couples who always had neat projects going on to inspire me, some had Masters in Public Health degrees… They’ll be missed! Can’t wait for their going-away part in March, hopefully at the beach!
Now that I’m back in site, I’m starting to think about projects that I want to accomplish in the 14 months I have left of service. I’m realizing that the time is really flying by and I need to take advantage of every day I have in site to get things done. Here is a look at what I’m thinking of working on/have already started on:
-HIV/AIDS training for all teachers at the local high school
-HIV/AIDS training for the local police
-First Aid/CPR training for local health volunteers and midwives from the villages with the aid of a non-profit organization from the U.S. ( www.ersla.org )
-Continued support to rural teen “health promoters” who learn about health topics (STDs, HIV/AIDS, teen pregnancy, sexual and reproductive rights…) and teach other youth about these issues. I educate them on the topics and help them plan their sessions.
- Continued classes on sexual and reproductive health in the high school and a possible health fair.
-With my site-mate (who is a small business volunteer), starting a community bank with the health center staff to encourage savings and earn money off the interest.
-I’ve also recently started an aerobics/dance class with a group of women. It’s been a fun way to stay active and also share information with them about eating right and exercise.
-Continued work in soy cooking – perhaps some cooking classes for my neighbors who own several restaurants in town and mothers in rural communities.
-Private tutoring for some neighbor kids in their college courses.
-Billiards tournament at a local pool hall with a focus on HIV/AIDS education for men. The participants have to answer questions about HIV/AIDS to win – it’s a great way to reach a vulnerable population and increase knowledge about the importance of condom use.

Well, those are just a few of the main things that I’ve been thinking about and starting to work on since I’ve been back. New ideas are constantly coming up, especially when I talk with other volunteers and hear what they’re up to. The biggest roadblock to all projects in Peace Corps is of course, lack of funds. There are some funds from the U.S. government we can request especially for HIV/AIDS education, so I’m hoping to apply for those in the future (they give up to $500), but the rest is mainly do-it-yourself funding or begging local organizations to help out.
Last night I went to a girl’s 15th birthday party (if you’ve read my previous blog about this, you’ll remember that it’s a BIG deal here). The family pulled out all the stops. All the women and girls of the family had new dresses, there were pink balloons and banners everywhere, a large box draped in pink silk held all the gifts, a three-layer pink cake topped with a figurine of a girl in a pink dress towered on a table and there was even a private ceremony by the Catholic priest. We all got dinner, soda pop, ice cream and they even started handing out rum at the end. In short: a fun night.
Oh, P.S., here is a YouTube video I posted last month of me giving a tour of my house. If you haven't already, check it out! My house is pretty darn nice by Peace Corps standards, but it did take a lot of work to get to that point. I'm sick of painting, fumagating, fixing, repairing... I am pretty happy with it though since my previous two host families were a lot more cramped and dirty situations. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h0QZ_4POpGE
Until next blog!

A well-deserved break...

¡ Feliz Navidad! y ¡Próspero Año Nuevo! (Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!) Okay, so I’m a little late getting this blog out, but hey, I’ve been on a much-needed vacation for the past three weeks! (my only one in the past year) I’ll give you a little rundown of where I went and what I did.

I spent Christmas in Costa Rica with two friends who traveled from Sweden to visit. It was a little weird celebrating my first Christmas without snow, but it was nice to be on the beach on Christmas Day.

Although Costa Rica neighbors Nicaragua, sharing the same flora, fauna, climate and many of the same foods; there are some immense differences between the countries. Costa Rica is a much more politically neutral country than Nicaragua - they have no army and their main economic focus seems to be tourism (along with coffee and electronics exports). When I crossed over the border into Costa Rica by bus (it took eight hours total), I could almost instantly notice a difference. There was no trash littered on the sides of the road, and trees and plants were greener and healthier-looking. You could tell that Costa Rica takes care of their nature - they seemed to have a national park or wildlife reserve every few miles and you saw little exploitation of the land (in comparison to Nicaragua of course).

What you did see though was a lot of tourists – approximately 2 million tourists come to the country every year. From the moment we stepped foot into the capital of San José, to the beaches of the pacific, we were just a few more faces in crowds of countless Germans, Scandinavians, Australians, Canadians, Americans… But, tourists = money = development, and you saw that Costa Ricans had a much higher standard of living. Many Nicaraguans cross the border to come work in Costa Rica at low-paying jobs, and they send money back home, often to children and spouses they’ve left behind. Many people equate the relationship between Nicaragua and Costa Rica to that between Mexico and the United States.

I did enjoy Costa Rica – it was nice to see a place where the land was cared for and things like “customer service” weren’t just an afterthought. It was also great reuniting with my Swedish friend Mia who I hadn’t seen for over two years! We did a zip line canopy tour in the Cloud Forest, hung out at the beach, and even saw a leatherback sea turtle! On Christmas Eve enjoying a tropical drink :)

After Christmas, I headed from Costa Rica to Alaska. What a trip that was! I split it up into two days, so I wasn’t too jet-lagged. It was very nice to be able to see my family (including a new niece!) and friends again for New Years.

Alaska was as beautiful as ever, and I even go to see some snow! Being home, I relished in the little luxuries that I had always taken for granted before: hot water, potable tap water, carpets, wireless internet, a variety of food available at the grocery store… I definitely went through a bit of reverse culture shock when I first got back to the U.S., but I think my little Costa Rica trip sort of eased the transition a bit. The best part of being back in the U.S. was simply blending into the crowd. No one looked at me funny on the street, I didn’t get catcalls from rude men…I was surrounded by people who looked like me!
Above, the view from the flight into my town.
My family and I with Mt. Edgecumbe in the background.

I cooked my family a traditional Nicaraguan meal while I was home: red beans and rice, fried green plantains, steamed ripe plantains, steamed chayote squash, fresco cheese, avocado, corn tortilla and tomato and onion salad. I was giving them a preview of Nicaraguan food since they’re planning on visiting me this coming summer! My sister and I on a hike with our dog.

After I was in Alaska for a week, my family and I headed down to Portland, Oregon for my Grandma’s 90th birthday. It was a fun excuse to see family that had travelled from other states to celebrate together. My Grandma is an amazing woman. She is truly a world traveler. She picked up traveling after her husband died and has been to countless countries. Israel, China, Russia, South Africa, Egypt, Spain, France, Greece, Germany, Costa Rica, Philippines, Indonesia, Panama…and many more that I can’t remember. I’d love to have a list that long when I’m her age – and hopefully I can make it to 90 and still be as healthy as she is!

My cousins and I surrounding my Grandma with "spirit fingers"!

From Oregon, I returned to Nicaragua. This country is so small; on the flight from Houston to Managua I recognized like three people (an Embassy family and another Peace Corps volunteer). I just got in last night. It’s a little strange to be back and it will probably take me a couple weeks to fully adjust. I had to remember that you can’t throw toilet paper into the toilet bowl here…and I sort of miss hot showers, but oh well, my time here is so short (I have 14 months left) and those things won’t be bothering me in a few days.
More updates soon when I get back into the swing of things here. The new group of Peace Corps health volunteers comes next week! It was one year ago on January 22nd that my health group arrived! What a fast and crazy ride this past year has been…

AVC and AIDS Day

What a crazy past 10 days this has been. Two big things to update you on: All Volunteer Conference and the World AIDS Day concert in my department capital.
I’ll start with All Volunteer Conference (AVC). All of the ~180 volunteers in Peace Corps Nicaragua descended upon the Best Western Hotel in Managua (one of the nicest hotels in Managua- we were pumped) for two days of workshops, forums, meetings, etc. Due to budgetary reasons, apparently AVC was not held last year, so I feel lucky to be able to have participated this year. The theme of this year’s conference was “A cross-sectoral approach to food security.” If you’re a follower of my blog, you may remember a previous entry I wrote that had to do with food security. For those of you who missed it, the quick definition of the phrase food security is: “when all people have sustainable access to sufficient food to lead a healthy and productive life.” The root cause of food insecurity is poverty, so this topic is especially relevant in Nicaragua. Food security involves all the five sectors of Peace Corps working in Nicaragua (small business, environment, agriculture, health, and teaching English), so it makes sense that we addressed this problem with all the volunteers in-country with a focus on collaboration and cross-sector work. Food security has to do with whether appropriate food is available, if people have the purchasing power to access that food, whether they know how to prepare it in healthy ways, health conditions of food preparation...
Throughout the conference I attended workshops on food preservation and cooking, an informational session on careers in the Foreign Service which was facilitated by U.S. Embassy staff from Nicaragua, a information session on extension/transfer options within Peace Corps (yes, it’s possible to stay in Peace Corps for longer than two years, and perhaps go to another country!), and a session on career building for Nicaraguan youth. Throughout the entire conference we also enjoyed hot showers, air conditioning, cable television, a pool, gym, and amazing food. We all felt like we were in a sort of mini-United States for a few days. I met so many new people and made a lot of good connections for future projects and collaborations with other volunteers.
To close-out the conference, a talent show was held and open to all volunteers. To start out the show, they had asked for a presentation by each of the five Peace Corps sectors. Somehow, some girls from my health group and I ended up being roped-into doing a rap about HIV/AIDS. This was a rap that we had created in pre-service training months before, and it was still well-remembered by the other health volunteers and they all voted that we represent the health sector. Our rap group’s name was “Fusion 4” and we created a rap about the four bodily fluids that transmit HIV/AIDS. Intriguing, I know. It took us quite a while to think up rhymes in both Spanish and English, and each one of the four of us represented one of the fluids: blood, breast milk, semen and vaginal secretions. I got semen.
I’ll give you a few samples of our English rap lyrics so you can get an idea of our rhyming genius: “You might think you’re cool and daring, but you could be infecting yourself with that needle you’re sharing,” “If you wanna be a he-man, you better be baggin’ that semen!” “Hey mama, do the test before you give ‘em your breast!” And so on…
Needless to say, it went over pretty well and don’t worry, I have it all on video. Here is our rap group:


AVC ended on Thanksgiving Day, and perhaps the best part of the whole event was the Thanksgiving dinner that I got to attend. Peace Corps set-up all the volunteers with Embassy families and Peace Corps staff to have dinners at their homes. I was assigned, with three other girls, to the Public Affairs Officer (Kathleen) for the U.S. Embassy in Nicaragua and enjoyed a very memorable Thanksgiving.
Kathleen had invited about thirty other people from her office (mostly Nicaraguans), and her two adopted Bolivian teenage daughters were also visiting from the boarding school they attend in the U.S. Now, to give you a little background information on why I was so blown away by the dinner, you have to remember that on a normal day-to-day basis in Nicaragua I am killing cockroaches in my bedroom, going without water/electricity, taking bucket baths, and eating beans and tortilla at every meal. Kathleen’s house, on the other hand, was located in a very fancy suburban gated community of Managua, had a pool and eight bathrooms. We ate with silver and china and had four different types of pie. The other Peace Corps volunteers and I were practically crying at the end of the meal we were so happy. We also were invited to spend the night at Kathleen’s house and to top all of it off; she let us use her washing machine!! What an amazing invention. We were in heaven.

The next day, I had to tear myself away from Kathleen’s house- it was very difficult to leave Managua after a week of gringo-time and good food and hot showers, but I had no choice. Besides, I had to scoot back to my site to get ready for World AIDS Day (December 1st). In my town, we organized a work-party with about 25 youth to make posters and large red ribbons to put up around the town with information about HIV/AIDS. Volunteers in my nearby departmental capital had applied for some Peace Corps funds to hold a concert by a popular Nicaraguan rock group, and it was held on December 1st and open to youth from the surrounding communities. I traveled there for the concert with six youth from my community (between 13-15 years old) to help out with the concert and to chaperone the kids. Before the concert started, there were lots of games and activities with questions about HIV/AIDS and prizes. I manned the ring-toss.




Many non-profits were also there with informational tables and were giving out pamphlets and condoms. About 400 youth attended in all. The musical group was called Perrozompopo (sp?) which in Nicaragua means “gecko.” The kids were star struck and after the concert were getting autographs on their arms, backs, shirts, pants… The three girls that came from my town were excited to be able to leave home on an adventure and spend time with other youth.

The highlight of the event was a large condom costume that the Peace Corps volunteers had made, and one of them wore it around the whole night, strutting his stuff and dancing. It was quite the scene. As a health volunteer you learn to be pretty comfortable with condoms.



After the concert, I ended up having to chaperone alone about forty girls in a dormitory-like facility. These girls were all hyped-up from the music and all the contact they’d had with boys that day and it was no small feat getting them in their bunks and the lights turned off. I think I slept about two hours the entire night. It reminded me of middle school, except this time the roles were reversed and I was the mean lady telling them to get in bed and be quiet. It went successfully though – when we woke up the next morning I was relieved to see that all the girls were still alive and breathing and not pregnant.
The concert was a great way to celebrate World AIDS Day – I met a lot of youth who were really passionate about AIDS education and were very knowledgeable. Others had no clue what AIDS was but just wanted to come to the concert. I guess the event helped both of them – hopefully the kids learned something through it all.

I’m getting ready to take Christmas vacation in a couple weeks, so no big projects planned until I get back. Just relaxing a bit in my site and settling-into my house a bit more (good news – fleas are gone!) I’m planning on going to Costa Rica with some girlfriends over Christmas. I’ve never been before and it’s going to be interesting to see the differences between Costa Rica and Nicaragua. Although they are so close, they are worlds apart in terms of their economies, tourism, and environmental policies.
More soon – from Costa Rica!

A place to call my own

Since I arrived in my site, I have been searching for my own house to rent. After seven months of dead-ends, false promises, and general exhaustion with the whole process, I finally have found a house!
Why are you renting an entire house if you´re just one person? you may ask... Well, ¨apartments¨ don´t really exist here, so my best bet was to find a small, safe house of my own. My current host family situation is very crowded (12 people in three rooms), and I´ve grown tired of the endless gossip and drama involved with a large family.
The house (see ¨before¨ photo above) I´ve found is actually on the same street as my host family´s - just about five minutes away. It´s right next to the courthouse and the high school, so I feel safe. The neighbors seem very friendly and own a little fritanga - a Nicaragua-style street food ¨restaurant¨ selling things like fried enchiladas, tacos and chips. I´m renting the house from a local teacher for $50/month, which is a pretty normal price for a small house.
The house has four main rooms: a living room, a smaller room I´ll use as the kitchen - (I´ve decided not to use the outdoor firewood stove and kitchen the house has), a bedroom and then an extra bedroom I´ll use for housing visitors (come on over!) and for storing my mountain of reference books that Peace Corps has lent me for my work.
The past week I have spent waging a war on the house. Every day I have sweated and cursed as I swept, mopped, got rid of spiderwebs, fumugated, put in new light sockets, contracted a carpenter to put in new locks and doors, and, best of all - I painted!
In my hometown in Alaska, I remember when our neighboor, a Filipino woman, painted her house pink with blue trim. The entire neighboorhood (and perhaps even town) was in a bit of shock... Maybe in the Filipines you can do that, but in Alaska it´s just not normal to paint a house that color. Pink is one of my favorite colors, and I´ve often joked with friends that I´d love to have a pink house someday. Well, in Nicaragua, my day has come. It is completely acceptable, even enviable here to have a pink house. I decided on a fuscia color with dark brown trim, and my host brother and some of his buddies helped me paint it. They even told me how much they liked the color, and the neighbors also commented on how nice it looked.
I put in all of my things: a new bed, mini-frige, fan, stove, hammock...and I was all ready to finally start sleeping there when we discovered - gasp - FLEAS!!!
Yes, despite all of my cleaning efforts and all the cans of Raid that I had used, apparently the house had fleas. I had a little freak-out, needlses to say. I felt like in this war, the house was winning, and I was out of energy.
The next day I tracked down some venom to kill fleas and had a guy fumugate the house. We´ll repeat the whole thing in another week or so to get them all...
I´ve been looking up information on fleas on the internet the past few days, and it´s pretty scary. Having never really come into contact with them before (maybe Alaska´s too cold for many fleas?) my knowledge is lacking. Apparently there are many types, but they are a parasite - so they usually live on hosts: chickens, cats, dogs... Which makes me a little confused since there are no pets in the house, and the neighbors don´t have too many either. Although there are lots of chickens that like to cross over into my yard and pick through the grass. I´ve put up chicken wire, but they just fly over it...

So, although I have a nice pretty pink house, it still needs some work. I just hope I can move in before Christmas rolls around (I´m planning on going to Costa Rica with some girlfriends for a couple weeks). For now, my war wages on against the elements. If it takes all I have, I will dominate the fleas!!

Nica Bus

It’s the end of a weekend trip; something I do every couple of weeks to run to the bank, go grocery shopping and basically take a mental break from the predictable routine of my site. Sometimes I go far: 3.5 hours in bus to Managua, or perhaps to a closer city like Estelí. I can usually buy some luxuries like a smoothie, yogurt, wheat bread and Diet Coke when I take these mini-vacations, which makes the hot and crowded bus ride worthwhile. I’ll describe to you what a normal traveling experience is like in Nicaragua; it’s something that terrifies many tourists (and myself as well when I first arrived here), but is also a truly unique and far-from-boring way of travel.
I wait on the side of the road, keeping my eyes peeled for a colorful bus to come careening down the cobblestone road. Old school buses from North America are used here for public transportation. The names of the school district are either covered-up or spray-painted out, but sometimes you can still see “Springfield School District” or a similar phrase on the side. The buses are as colorful as the birds here, painted in a rainbow of colors. Stripes, ocean scenes, sunsets, and women’s half-naked bodies decorate the sides. Tassels hang from every piece of equipment inside: the steering wheel, shift stick, rearview mirror… Stickers depicting Jesus, the Virgin Mary, and the Lord’s Prayer adorn the walls inside. “Only God knows if I will return” is a popular phrase to see above the driver’s seat.

I see a bus approaching. Squinting my eyes to see the painted letters announcing the destination on the front windows, I see that this is my bus. There is no real set schedule to the buses (though some might tell you there is), but they are so frequent, you usually just have to wait on the road a half hour or so and one will pass. I put my hand out, palm down and hit my fingers against my open palm, making the Nicaraguan “pull over” gesture. This simple movement is all the cobrador or “bus attendant” needs to see. He is hanging out of the open swinging door on the bus, practically falling out at sharp corners, keeping his eagle eyes out for possible customers waiting on the road. The bus signals its impending arrival with a few tweets of the horn, letting all the people they are passing know what is coming. They can be pretty insistent with the horn sometimes, seeming to say with their repeated beeps, “Are you sure you don’t want to get on?! Come on! We’re going your way!” The cobrador puts his free hand out in a “What’s it going to be?” gesture as he passes people – if they confirm with the downward-palm movement, the bus immediately decelerates. It doesn’t even stop – just barely slows enough for the person to be rushed onto the bus while it’s still moving.
I’ve made it on the bus and am immediately met with a jumble of scents. The overpowering smell of perfumed women going to work in offices as secretaries or bank tellers, fried enchiladas, tacos and potato chips being sold by vendors, hung-over men who carry the stench of last night’s alcohol binge, the fresh smell of soap of small children dressed in uniforms on their way to school, and the unmistakable whiff of chickens that people bundle under their arms like babies – on their way to someone’s stew pot.
There are no available seats, of course. The aisle is crowded with the other unlucky souls who also have to stand. I am pushed to the back of the bus by the cobrador who serves partly as a herder, shoving us around like cattle and calling out “Move back! It’s empty back there!” It’s a good thing I’m not a claustrophobic person because I am instantly enveloped in a ball of humans; plump mothers, young children practically being suffocated since they are too short to reach the open air, men wearing cowboy hats – right off their farm. I catch a glimpse of an old plaque remaining from this bus’s old days as a school bus in the United States: “Maximum capacity: 55” it reads. Hah! There is probably double that amount in that bus at the moment, and more people are constantly shuffling on and off. The bus stops every few minutes to let on or off a different person. There are no set bus stops; it is the cobrador’s job to tell the driver when to pick-up or drop-off people. As a rider, you have to stay alert and make your way to the front when it’s your turn to get off.

I hold on for dear life to the bars above my head (also adorned in colorful tassels) avoiding pushing into my neighbors too much. The cobrador weaves through the crowd with amazing agility as we zoom along, collecting money from the passengers and making change. He shifts himself between bottoms, hips, elbows, heads, breasts and stomachs being careful to say “excuse me” or “sorry” when necessary. I am always impressed by how the cobrador can remember so many things at once. He has to keep track of who has paid and who hasn’t, keep an eye out for people on the road flagging the bus down, and load large boxes and bags of fruits and vegetables (and the occasional dog) on the roof of the bus. Yes, that’s right – dogs. I have seen a bus that had a dog riding on the roof – standing up!
There are official prices for certain distances and they are supposed to be posted in a visible place on the bus, but it’s often forgotten. I ask a fellow rider what the price is to my destination and am informed that for this hour and a half ride they charge $1. I am careful about being over-charged since I am an American. I have turned into a pretty cheap person since joining Peace Corps – but when you’re only living on $200/month, every cent counts.
As the cobrador approaches me, he asks my destination and struggles to hear my answer above the noise of the pounding music. The radio is blaring, providing another layer of chaos to the ride. “¡Celos de tus ojos cuando mires otra chica, tengo celos! ¡Celos!” declares the singing woman. The songs are usually reggaetón, salsa, bachata, cumbia… declaring lost love, betrayal, or describing the perfect woman.
I get lucky: a seat opens up and I collapse gratefully. My hands have gone numb from being above my head clutching the rail for so long. I stare out the window at the rolling green hills. Rainy season is about to end and soon they will turn from vibrant to dry and dusty. Numerous buses pass us going the other way and our driver honks and throws a hand out in greeting. There is a strong camaraderie between these drivers and cobradors that reminds me of fishing captains and their deckhands back home in Alaska. Ignoring the solid yellow line in the highway, we pass other cars, buses, and donkey carts with a speed that surprises me – these buses are far from new and often break-down, but today this bus seems to be doing okay.
Today my ride is rather pleasant, but these buses can be nightmares when you’re sick. Every Peace Corps volunteer seems to have a story to share about a time when they had a bacterial infection or parasite and they had to take a 5-12 hour bus ride to get to the nearest laboratory, praying that their diarrhea would wait until they got to their destination. There are no restroom breaks on Nicaraguan buses. Being vomited on by a small child is also common.
Today however, I do not suffer from loose bowels and there are no infants in my immediate area. Just as I start to relax, a booming voice penetrates the air from the front of the bus. I crane my neck and see that there is a man selling vitamins, anti-fungal lotion and parasite medicine. These traveling salesmen frequent rural buses and are actually quite entertaining. They have excellent oratory and persuasive skills. As I listen to his little speech I find myself wondering, “Hmm, do I really need some anti-fungal lotion?? You never know…”
As we pass through a small town, we stop at the bus terminal for a few minutes and people push on and off the bus. Along with new passengers, several food vendors mount the bus, holding their wares high and in a sing-song shout, announce their products. The vendors are usually middle-aged women with generous panzas (bellies), and they all sport a frilly apron with pockets for napkins, straws and plastic bags. All foods are served in plastic bags - including drinks. The women compete to be heard above the din of the bus: “Chicken and tortilla!” “Juice, soda, water! Cold juice, soda and water!” “Hot enchiladas!” “Corn on the cob!” “Taco, my love? Delicious tacos!” I usually avoid bus food since most of it sits out in the hot sun for hours before it reaches your mouth.
The bus charges on and my destination coming into view. I get to my feet and my seat is instantly snatched up by a standing person. Struggling to the front of the bus I avoid stepping on feet as well as I can. I reach the cobrador who is counting money at the front of the bus and tell him where my stop is. As the bus slows, he grabs my bag and my hand (what a gentleman!) and helps me jump-off. No sooner do my feet hit the pavement than the bus lurches away in a cloud of dust, as the cobrador runs to catch up and jumps in the open door at the back of the bus. “¡Gracias!” I say, my words being lost in the puff of smoke they leave behind.
I orient myself and set-off to run my errands, looking forward to the Diet Coke that awaits me in the grocery store. Here in Nicaragua both the destination and the journey are exciting.

Champions!

Well, after six long months of daily practices and games every weekend, my team "Gemini" has won the local championships! We beat out four other teams, and let me tell you, it was not pretty. Even though the championship game was fraught with drama, bad calls by biased referees, complaints by both teams and a lot of attitude - we emerged champions. Like most small towns, these rifts between teams run deep, and when it all gets mixed with local politics of the town, it turns out pretty ugly. All the girls are pretty happy, despite the dramatic circumstances in which the final game ended. We had a team dinner after the game and danced until 2 am, still wearing our new uniforms. It was a bittersweet victory, not helped by the fact that my host family was vigorously rooting for the other team and hasn't let me hear the end of it since the night of the game...

All things considered, team Gemini has become a really close group over these past months, and yesterday I felt pretty sad that it was 4:30 pm on a weekday and I wasn't going to volleyball practice...
Some fans.

Our Coaches.

I'll be around for next year's season and am looking forward to hanging out with the girls and guys that I've met through the volleyball league throughout the coming year and a half that I have left in Nicaragua. (Wow, I'm already 1/4 of the way through my service!)

Another note: I should be moving into my own house soon, after a LONG and frustrating process of looking for a house to rent. I'm very ready to leave my current host family. Let's just say we have some fundamental differences. I'll put up a blog soon with photos of my new house. I'm contemplating painting the outside of it pink. Yes, only in Nicaragua would that be completely acceptable and normal.

Nutrition in a developing country

I recently received a healthy lifestyle magazine in a care package from my family, and an article about antioxidant-rich foods caught my eye. In the U.S. this buzz-word, “antioxidant” is fairly well-known, but when I found myself trying to explain it to my Nicaraguan host sister over breakfast, I was met with a blank stare and a scrunched-up nose (in Nicaraguan nonverbal communication, that means confusion). “Free radicals?” She asked, “Those are in our bodies? Why do they need to be destroyed?” As I watched her eat some the typical breakfast of white sweet bread and tortilla with sugared-down coffee, I realized that this world of food that I was trying to explain was completely foreign. In Nicaragua, you eat what is available and you don’t complain. Food is a scarce resource that is subject to Mother Nature’s quirks and a person’s income level.

I realized that Nicaraguans don’t have ¨favorite foods¨ when I tried to use that as an ice-breaker introduction for a workshop I led with midwives. “State your name, the community you’re from and your favorite food” I instructed. One by one the women went off onto long tangents about how they just eat whatever is in season – beans, tortilla, etc. (of course, “only if God grants me the money to buy them or the good fortune to grow them.”) Most summed up saying that their “favorite foods” were beans and tortilla (aka what they eat every day). The concept was lost on them and I just had to smile at my mistake. I hadn’t realized before that experience what a luxury it is to even have a favorite food. The freedom of choice in what you eat is not universal and in poor countries such as Nicaragua, nutrition and health suffer.

In every rural Nicaraguan kitchen you can always find a few staples: tortillas made of maize, red beans, white rice and salty cow cheese. Sometimes there is a little bit of tomato, onion, plantain and some fruit to mix with sugar to make a sweet juice – but basically that’s about it. They don’t “count carbs” or even calories for that matter - most have never been inside a large grocery store that we would be familiar with in the U.S. A little corner store run out of someone’s house carries most of what they need: salt, sugar, beans, rice, white bread, soda pop…

As I continued reading the magazine, I saw a poll of some major personalities in the healthy-living world which asked them what they usually ate for breakfast. One nutritionist stated that he had “A medicinal smoothie that includes whey protein, a fatty-acid supplement, super greens, coconut powder, wild berry concentrate, goat milk kefir and frozen acai fruit.” My mouth literally dropped. This morning, when I went to my kitchen for breakfast there were red beans, tortilla and sweet coffee, period. If I were to read that article before joining Peace Corps, I probably would have thought – “Why didn’t I think of that smoothie?! I’m going to the store right now to stock up…” Now I realize that eating healthy is a privilege that only those in developed countries or with high incomes can afford. Before Peace Corps, even though I lived in the remote state of Alaska, I could still acquire a variety of exotic and healthy foods (however at a slightly larger price than the “lower ’48” – but still accessible). Another expert who was interviewed said that he enjoyed a Japanese breakfast; “steamed rice, miso soup, grilled salmon, pickles, cooked vegetables, sea vegetables and green tea.” Although there are some international restaurants in the capital of Managua, most people in the country only know “Nicaraguan food.” Being able to enjoy food from other countries that is easily affordable is also a benefit of living in a first-world, immigrant nation such as the United States.

I have been working lately in elementary schools giving classes on nutrition. Teaching something like the basic food groups is very useful and promoting a balanced diet. There are many varieties of fruits and vegetables here, but the habit of putting them into meals is not common. Simple carbohydrates, sugars and oil are prevalent, as well as high blood pressure, diabetes and high cholesterol. I’ve gradually been teaching kids that sugar is not a protein, and that no, coffee is not good for toddlers.

I have also been doing some workshops in the surrounding communities teaching mothers and daughters how to cook with soy. Soy beans are grown in Nicaragua and are very affordable ($0.50/pound) and from just one simple bean you can extract soy milk, soy meat, tofu, soy flour, soy pudding... The benefits of soy are numerous: there is no cholesterol, it contains omega-3 fatty acids, has twice the amount of protein of red beans, and contains vitamin B and calcium. Although this bean is readily available here and often cheaper than the widely-used red beans, many mothers – due to lack of education, end up feeding it to their animals instead of their family.

There are also many food myths that need to be debunked. I have been working with a pregnant women’s group promoting breast feeding and proper nutrition for the mothers during and after their pregnancy. Many women believe that powdered milk you can buy at the store is somehow “better” for their babies than their own breast milk. There is also a belief that after birth, new mothers should only eat tortilla, cheese and a corn meal drink called pinol. Needless to say this does not provide to the mother the proper vitamins and minerals she needs to provide nutritious milk to her newborn.

Since I am a community health volunteer here, these ideas on nutrition are not new to me, but the longer I am here the more I realize how this affects one’s health. Who do you think will be more susceptible to illness? The kefir-shake drinking health guru in the U.S. or the malnourished Nicaraguan little girl who is fed on only beans and tortilla? The answer is simple and problematic. One’s income and education level are directly related to nutrition and therefore health. The term “food security” is thrown around a lot here in Peace Corps and has to do with ensuring that people have available, accessible and sufficient food that fulfuills proper nutritional requirements, whether this means they grow or buy it. Most Peace Corps volunteers directly work in this whether they are in the business, agriculture, environment or health sector. A married couple who is in Peace Corps who live about a half an hour away from my site recently co-wrote an essay regarding food security which won recognition in a worldwide Peace Corps essay contest. You can see the essay here: http://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=learn.whatvol.foodsecurity.volstories.werderlyttle

As I read that magazine, salivating at the photos of strawberries, spinach and apples, I also had to realize that I am still very thankful for the food that is put on my plate here every day. I know that people sweat out in the fields to cultivate these beans and corn. Those tomatoes and cucumbers were grown right here in Nicaragua. I am definitely eating locally this year. Although I can´t say I´m not looking forward to some good kefir when I get back to the states!

¨Sweet Sixteen¨ - oops, I mean ¨Fifteen¨

For me, one of my biggest accomplishments since I have begun my service is the creation of a girls’ youth group in a small village nearby my site. The creation of and education of youth groups are one of the main goals for Peace Corps Community Health Volunteers. There are about 12 off-and-on members, and during our weekly meetings we address topics such as self-esteem, life goals, peer-pressure, family relations, puberty, teen pregnancy… We also have had “fun-days” where we go to a field and play volleyball, or paint our nails or make pudding. The club has been meeting since June and I’m slowly grooming them to be “youth promoters” – selected youth who will give talks to other youth about topics such as HIV/AIDS, teen pregnancy and STDs. It’s a slow process since you can’t just walk in and expect these girls to open up to you and talk about delicate topics. They are from a very small village (about 80 houses in total), they are more shy and slow-to-participate than the “city kids” from the main town where I am currently living.
During a recent meeting, we were talking about birthdays, and we realized that two of the most participative and outgoing girls in the group (aka some of my favorites) were both turning 15 within days of each other in September. For those of you who don’t know, in Latin culture, when a girl turns 15, it’s a big deal. If there is money available, the family usually throws a huge “coming-out” party complete with a ceremony in the church with the birthday girl decked out in a pink dress specially made for the occasion. In the United States, we celebrate “sweet 16,” but in Latin America, they celebrate their 15 años. My college roommate back in the United States was of Mexican heritage, and she had a large 15th birthday party. I watched the video of the event, feeling like I was watching a wedding. There were elaborate decorations, dresses, attendants (like bridesmaids), flowers, a catered dinner, dancing… Even a Congressional Senator was invited.
So, now that we know how big of a deal a 15th birthday party is, you can imagine that I was a little surprised when both of these girls told me that they didn’t have anything planned for their special day. “There’s no money,” they explained to me. The sad part to me was that these girls didn’t seem very upset by this – they were used to it. Why should they expect their family to spend money on a frivolous thing like a birthday when they had to worry about putting beans on the table?
I decided that something had to be done. After asking permission from their mothers, together we planned a joint birthday party for the two girls, Leticia and Olania, that would be held at Leticia’s house with the girls’ families and the whole youth group invited. Sparks lit up in the girls’ eyes as they explained to me everything that they would have to do: make paper decorations, music, pin the tail on the donkey, eat cake… As they mentioned cake, they looked around nervously. Cakes were expensive, at least $15/pound. I quickly offered to bake two cakes since I love baking and had recently bought some cake mixes while I was in the capital city. We made invitations that very day, cutting designs and drawing hearts and flowers into construction paper. “You are cordially invited,” they invites said, “to celebrate with Olania and Leticia their most special 15th birthdays. Your presence would be eternally appreciated.”
The date was set, and I would arrive with paper, scissors and markers (courtesy of the Health Center) to make decorations, the cakes and some enchiladas to give the invitees (it’s customary to eat a small meal then cake). Since the enchiladas only cost about $7 for 20, I decided to donate those as well. (Yes I know, this is all very opposite to my previous post on development work…I should have had the girls raise their own money for the food, but we had little time and I feel like these girls really deserved it)
The day before the party as I made the cakes using a friend’s oven, I started getting a little nervous about the party. It had been over a week since I had last seen the girls. Did they still remember the party was tomorrow? Were the invitees going to show up? Were they going to value all this time and work I was putting in to get them food and decorations? Would their families even come?
All my fears were put to rest the day of the party. I arrived a few hours early to see Leticia and Olania doing their hair, and even wearing new clothes! They had both traveled to the bigger town nearby to buy new shirts, pants and shoes. This was really touching because I know their families don’t have a lot of extra money, but they must have realized that it was these girls’ special day and it’s an unwritten rule that for your 15th birthday, you have to estrenar, or “wear new clothes.” They had already put up some balloons around the living room area and set-up some plastic chairs. A few invited girls had arrived early and quickly got to work making decorations. “Congratulations on your special day, Leticia,” and “Your family wishes you all the best on this day, Olania” their signs announced.


I had also brought a special surprise for the two girls; two crowns that I had decorated with their names and glitter. In my family, we used to be an “extended family” to a group of kids a local boarding high school, and we would have dinner with them once a week. When it was one of their birthdays, we would make a special crown for them to wear. Cheesy? Yes. But definitely fun. Olania and Leticia loved them. They thought it was the coolest idea ever and they pranced around the living room showing them off, and rubbing some of the glitter from the crown on their cheeks and foreheads.

Slowly, the invitees trickled in, to the sound of deafening reggaeton and bachata music. In Nicaragua, if the music is too loud to hear the person next to you talking, then it’s perfect. All the invitees came, and even Leticia’s mother came for the day (Leticia lives with her grandmother and her mother lives about 3 hours away. They rarely see each other). I was really touched when Leticia’s mother came up to me to introduce herself and to say how thankful she was that I was a friend to her daughter and that I had helped them organize this party. She said that she wouldn’t have missed out on this event for the world. Leticia had an extra glow about her that day, always hovering close to her mom and making sure she was comfortable and had a glass of juice at all times. This is her and her mom and brother below:

First, the enchiladas were served with mango juice – reggaeton music still serenading us in the background like a jackhammer… Then it was time for pastel – cake! I had made one chocolate and one vanilla. They had never seen a chocolate cake before, and after we sang and the mothers said their respective congratulations to their daughters, they tore into the cakes.
Then we played pin the tail on the donkey (apparently you’re never too old for this game) and then it was dancing time. A few awkward-looking teenage boys appeared out of the woodwork and the girl who was serving as DJ for the day started in with salsa, hip hop, oldies from ABBA and Air Supply, and Celine Dion. Midway through, Olania and Leticia found a microphone that hooked into the speakers and stood up in front of everyone (about 20 invitees in all) and said thank you to me for helping them have this birthday party that they wouldn’t have done without me. As the other girls around the room nodded in agreement, I got a warm feeling. I felt appreciated and I felt at-home with these girls, two things that have been somewhat lacking since I have arrived in Nicaragua. After taking probably 100 photos on my digital camera (they just couldn’t get enough), they continued dancing.


As I was heading out, going to catch my bus back home, Olania’s mom came up to me with tears in her eyes. “Thank you so much. This has been such a special day for Olania and I know she won’t forget it,” she said, pressing a tamale into my hand. It was the only thing she could offer me as thanks. I took it gratefully and said goodbye to all the girls (who were still dancing, having been joined by more boys), reminding them of our meeting the next week. I came back to my house that night feeling very satisfied. We had actually done something here in Nicaragua that went as planned! It even started on time! It was nice to know I had had a positive impact on the girls. I know these will be the moments that I’ll remember in the future as I look back on these two years.