My most
powerful experience in Nicaragua was during my time in Nandasmo. Rick (my
supervisor) and I spent a week with a friend of his, Erenda, while we continued
to make connections, visit potential resource sites for Latino Earth Partnership
(LEP), and hold a three-day workshop with community leaders. The original plan
had been to introduce community leaders to LEP with the hope of Nandasmo being
a potential site for another intern, but on the first day of the workshop we
had no attendees! After some frantic calling, Erenda found out that there was another
meeting, which the intended attendees were attending (say that three times
fast!), making it impossible for them to come. Within minutes Erenda was back
on the phone placing a few calls, and all of a sudden we had a room full of
students from the school, Pio IX, down the road. Rick and I looked at each
other, shrugged our shoulders and began improvising.
Working
with students instead of adults turned out to be a blessing in disguise, since it
gave me a chance to get some experience working with kids doing the Earth Partnership
(EP) activities, while having a supervisor with me whom I could consult with in
English. At the end of the first day, one of the community members asked Rick
to make a visit with him to one of the poorer parts of Nandasmo. He had heard
Rick talk about the EP’s water workshops and resources , and was wondering if we
could help with the difficult water situation in this community. Although Nandasmo
itself is not extremely poor, families there are certainly not as well off as those
in Granada. Even Erenda, who has a
cement home with a tin roof, doesn’t get running water at night because it has
to be redirected to other areas. I decided to tag along for a chance to see
more of Nandasmo; I was also curious to see if – and how -- Rick could help.
As we
walked along we noticed that the houses became more and more dilapidated: less
concrete construction and more tin and cardboard. We eventually turned onto a long
dirt road, where the houses were the kind you think of when you think of
poverty in a third world country. (After Haiti, Nicaragua is the second poorest
country in Central America.) They were of cardboard and wood, cobbled together
with tarp and string; there was dirt everywhere with chickens, goats, and pigs
wandering through the yards and houses, and kids, covered in dust, running
after us barefoot. While this scene was powerful enough, it was the story we
were told that really made an impact. The entire community of about 20 families
only had access to water once a day for two hours at a single pump. They had
been petitioning the mayor for more pumps and more access to water, but due to
some perceived community offence against her, the mayor was refusing to do
anything. While we were introduced to each family, our guide told them we were
here doing a workshop and that each family should come so they could discuss
the water problem. I started to panic. How
would we feed all these people (lunch was included as part of the workshop),
and what did they expect from us? Of
course Rick and I wanted to help, but we weren’t equipped to find a solution to
a problem of this magnitude. All we were equipped for was teaching kids about
bugs!
The next
day I was curious to see if any of the families we talked to the day before
would show up. About half way through the day, a group of three women, who
appeared to be related, came, accompanied by their children. We were in the
middle of an activity with the kids, so Rick told the women what we were doing,
and asked if they wanted to join. At first they mostly just watched, curious
and a bit bemused, but by the end of the day two of them were actively
participating. They left after lunch, but said they would be back tomorrow. None
of them had mentioned anything about the water.
The next day the
families returned early in the morning ready to start. One of the women, Maria,
was really getting into the activities. Maria is young, early to mid-twenties,
and I couldn’t guess how much schooling she had previously had. As the day wore
on I could see she was getting more and more engaged. When we were wrapping up
and doing a review of the activity and what we had learned, I watched her
closely. As Rick was talking and asking questions, Maria was laser-focused on
what he was saying. I could see the wheels turning as she thought about his
questions, and processed an answer; even if she didn’t offer one she would
listen, and nod her head when she heard what she considered the right answer.
At the end of the day we had a mini
party with a piñata and candy for the kids. Everyone wanted Rick and me to take
a turn, so the two of us hammed it up and danced around with our blindfolds
“swinging” at the piñata. I could hear Maria clapping her hands and laughing
harder than anyone.
When
everyone had left, and Rick and I were de-briefing, he told me something Erenda
had mentioned to him. As everyone was packing up to leave Maria had gone to
Erenda, tears streaming down her face, and said, “Thank you so much, I had a wonderful time.
No one has ever invited me to anything like this before.” Hearing those words
from Rick just about broke my heart. The unintentional invitation to our
workshop for a group of 6th graders touched her more than I ever
would have guessed. It was amazing to me how a day and a half made such a
difference to her. I doubt many people have ever told Maria that they valued
her opinion as a person or a woman. Even when our guide was introducing us to
the members of the community he would say right in front of their faces, “look
at them, look how dirty and poor they are.” I think he honestly meant it with
the best intentions because he wanted us to try and help them, but I can only
imagine how many times Maria has been looked down upon due to her sex, her lack
of education, and her poverty. I doubt that anyone had ever respected this
woman enough to consider that she was smart enough, good enough or even deserving
enough to try something like this. This simple invitation showed her that she
was valued as a person with important opinions. I left Nandasmo feeling frustrated
that I couldn’t do more. I wanted to give Maria more opportunities like the
workshop; I wanted her to feel valued, smart, heard, but how could I do that?
It is amazing how much difference access to
water makes. Not only is it essential for life, but also for so many daily
functions that we take for granted. We can turn the water flow on with the twist
of a handle; Maria has to wait in line at the pump, hoping she can get enough
water to cook, drink, supply the livestock, bathe, and wash the clothes for herself
and her family. In places such as Nandasmo, no water for washing clothes means
no clean school uniforms ,which may mean no school. (Until recently, if students
did not have the right shoes or shirt they would be sent home.) Although the
current government is easing up on requiring students to wear uniforms so that more kids are going to school and getting
more days of schooling, it is still difficult for many families to provide
their children with clean uniforms. I decided that while I might not be able to
change Maria’s circumstances directly, I can start seeing what connections and
help we can give that small community to provide them with more water. In the meantime, I hope we sparked something
in her that she will pass on to others. Maybe we have already started
something, and the rest is up to Maria?
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