Some of my days in Nicaragua defy explanation. Even as they are passing I am conscious of the fact that I won't be able to convey the magnitude of the event. I especially feel this way when the day is filled with subtle, seemingly insignificant occurences that at the end of the day leave me feeling so lucky to be here, thinking that there is no chance my day could have passed the same in the states. Tuesday was exactly such a day. I went to Instituto San Ignacio to give class. I've been teaching at this school a couple weeks now and am still amazed by the kids and how they are the opposite of everything I had heard about them. This high school is not funded by the government but survives on charity contributions from churches like Fe y Alegria. It's situated in the poorest neighborhood in Somotillo and attends a population of 350 students from kindergarten to 10th grade. The kids are considered at-risk because of the socio-economic status of their families and that most of them have jobs both before AND after school. A lot of the students are also parents. There is no age cut-off for students at San Ignacio so one of the boys in my 10th grade class will turn 21 this year. When I told people in town that I would be working at San Ignacio they all offered their sympathies warning me about how bad the kids are. My experience has been the opposite. The students in my class are there of their own accord. No one makes them get up and go to class, they want to learn. They actively participate in the discussions and there is rarely disobedience. I have fallen in love with the program at San Ignacio. After class Tuesday I was walking home (down the VERY muddy dirt path—I can't even called it a road) when I suddenly found myself face-down on the ground. A root had entered my shoe and pulled me to the ground. I bloodied both my palms, one of my knees, jammed the thumb on my right hand and the big toe on my left foot. I hit the ground with such force that the wind was knocked out of me. It hurt so bad I couldn't even be bothered with feeling embarrassed that four teenage boys witnessed my plummit to the ground. The fall can only be described as epic.
I didn't have time to waste as I now had to go home and change my muddy clothes before meeting up with one of the teachers I work with (we call them counterparts). Gilma (pronounced Hilma) had invited me to go to her mother's house for the day. Her mom was very sick with fever and Gilma was going to bring her medicine. When I accepted the offer, I didn't realize that her mom lives close to two hours away from Somotillo. We met in the market and jumped aboard the still moving bus to make sure we got a seat. As we waited for the bus to be filled with cargo (rice, beans, sugar), people and chickens we savored mamones—a delicious fruit I have discovered since moving to Nicaragua. An hour into the ride Gilma told me the highway (read: dusty unpaved road) was bad up ahead and we now had to get off the bus to get on another bus. The whole bus unloaded along side a river and the race was on. There are not enough seats on the buses for all the passengers to sit down so everyone who got off the bus immediately started running for the river. Even though it was raining, we ran full-speed down the muddy hill and hopped across the rocks in the middle of the water, praying for balance. On the other side, the hill was steeper but no one slowed down. Gilma and I were among the first 10 to make it to the bus. A man in front of us pulled open the back door and we all jumped up into the bus. I sincerely felt like I was illegally crossing the border. The whole time we were running Gilma and I were laughing hysterically. Another hour or so later we were getting off the bus at her family's farm. You have to walk on a dirt path about ¼ of a mile (and cross another small river on foot) to reach her mother's house. By now it was mid-day and the sun was suffocating. I rested in a hammock until lunch while Gilma attended to her mother.
I LOVED the farm. They grow corn, sorghum, tomatoes and beans. Best of all they had TONS of ducks. I absolutely love ducks. I especially love talking about them in Spanish because they are called patos... a name which sounds almost as cute as they look.
Gilma's three year-old nephew what a complete trip. He busts out this wooden toy guitar and starts singing me a song and playing the guitar. Don't worry, I have a video of it.
On the trip back, the bus which was supposed to carry us the second leg of the trip decided not to show up for two hours. Gilma and I sat under a tarp at a road-side stand while the rain poured down around us. The owner of the road-side stand was selling Coca Cola in glass bottles for less than $.50...and they were cold! The two hours passed relatively quickly and before long I was at home.
Before I explain this next story a little backround info is necessary. In Nicaragua, just about everything can be bought from the comfort of your home. Ladies (and sometimes men) come door to door offering everything from veggies, milk, shoes, perfume, cheese...Whatever it may be, you probably don't have to leave your house to get it. Buying from these vendors is a completely acceptable alternative to going to the market.
The day after my trip to the farm I got a package from my dad containing the two books that I had asked for, my new watch (because I lost my other one) and some almonds. I sat down in a rocking chair in the front room to read my book. I sat my soda down on the chair next to me. A half-hour later a woman selling cheese came to the door. I greeted her but told her that I did not want any cheese. She wouldn't take no for an answer, came in the house, stood in front of me opening the container and made me smell the cheese. Cheese does not smell good!!! Suddenly, she spotted my half-drank soda on the ground and reached down to snatch it up. She sniffed at the mouth of the bottle (basically putting her nose on it) and asked me if it was warm. When I told her that indeed it was, she told me she loved warm soda and started to drink it, turned and walked down the street. Even several days later the story seems incredulous to me.
These were just a couple of anecdotes from this week. Hope you all are well. :)
Hasta la proxima vez.
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