upon all paths

clamoring...

2011-01-08T12:05:00.000-08:00

I like beginnings. I like change and the chance to start again and the possibility that always accompanies a fresh start. The new year, however, has always seemed like a sort of false new beginning. The calendar changes, but for those of us in Minnesota not much in our sensory world encourages us to think new or fresh. Here, in the tundra, it seems spring would be a better time for a calendar change.

Regardless of the new year not feeling like it has much external significance for me, it does always present an opportunity to ruminate and reflect, and those are activities that I quite enjoy. This year, as I thought about what I'd like to change, the laundry list was longer than I'd like it to be. Despite being home and being surrounded by loved ones, I have been frequented by more headaches, unsatisfied with my job, and beyond grumpy about the dark and the cold.

In reality, when I think from a healthy perspective, I am aware that I am incredibly blessed. Inside, so many days, it is hard to remember that. And it just doesn't seem like it should be so hard to remember that. Doesn't seem it should be hard to be happy. So then I'm hard on myself: 'how can I be unhappy when I'm so privileged, when I'm so fortunate?' And of course, that doesn't usually help me feel better.

What does seem to help, is being intentional about being present, being grateful, and spending my time doing things that 'wake me up' to beauty. Writing is one of those things. I had all but stopped and I'd like to start again. Without stressing about not having spectacular things from far away lands to write about, and without having to make each post entirely perfect. I'd like this to continue to be a space in which I continue to reflect and clamor toward happiness. Thanks for coming back to read and reflect with me.

Happy New Year.

Everyone should be born into this world happy
and loving everything
But in truth it rarely works that way.
For myself, I have spent my life clamoring toward it.
Halleluiah, anyway I'm not where I started!

And have you too been trudging like that, sometimes
almost forgetting how wondrous the world is
and how miraculously kind some people can be?
And have you too decided that probably nothing important
is ever easy?

- Mary Oliver, Halleluiah

returning...

2010-07-01T09:34:00.000-07:00

It was about two weeks ago now that I boarded the plane to fly back to Minnesota. As, usual, departure was awfully early, but the airport process went smoothly, Chepe and Eliett came all the way out to bid farewell and with Joao's incredibly positive demeanor accompanying me, I even made it through the good-byes without many tears.

But airplanes still seem strange to me. To begin, I simply don't get the physics of it; but beyond that, it's just always a sort of surreal experience. It's as if we can teleport from one reality to another (with a few hours of cramped legs and bad/overpriced food along the way) - moving through space and time in way that isn't at all natural.

I scored an exit row all to myself and a few minutes after taking off decided to open my window. The first time I flew I remember being fascinated by every aspect of it, but lately I'm usually asleep by the time the wheels leave the ground. Perhaps I was more nostalgic than normal this time. I wasn't just leaving for a quick vacation, or another round with a new group of students. This time I was flying home to family, flying home to start setting up life again in the midwest.

And out my window were the most picturesque clouds, and aren't clouds an incredible thing? These were those kind-of storybook clouds, the type of clouds I saw so often surrounding God's throne in Sunday school class, or at least saw surrounding Homer as he debated with the Big Guy on the Simpsons. I smiled to myself about these being the first two images that came to mind, but was also somehow comforted by these clouds, painting for me such an unreal backdrop to this terrifying and beautiful moment as I was being hurled away from a place I love toward another place I love.

How blessed am I? To have found various places to call home and to have seen the passion of so many people, so willing to share their stories. To have walked the streets of Managua daily and learned to see them for what they are in their raw, chaotic beauty. To have lived in a place that never let me forget that people are suffering all of the time and that I have an enormous responsibility to them and myself. To be in love and to be so loved so well, to be healthy and able to travel and work and to still believe in change.

Certainly, I returned home grateful. I've talked often about perspective, and hopping on a plane and flying from a place like Managua to place like Minneapolis will give one more than a healthy dose of it. Of course this transition is never easy, or entirely smooth, but it probably shouldn't be. I continue looking for a job and missing the people I care about in other places and working through anger that swells up in response to big and little things that are 'different' than how I think they should/could be. Those 'clashes' or moments of heightened perspective motivate me, and although I'm in a city that may look a little more 'refined' there is plenty of work to be done. It's comforting to sit here in Northfield and still feel within me the desire to keep on as part of that struggle. I'm beyond blessed and so grateful to be here.

much has happened...

2010-06-08T16:40:00.000-07:00

I have been terrible about blogging this spring! To all of you who continue to check in despite my inexcusable absence - thanks for being persistent.

Since I last wrote much has happened:
- Our semester students partied hard, said their goodbyes and headed home (all but one - who is still in rural Nica)
- A lovely 'may-term' group arrived from Furman University and brightened up our May with their enthusiasm, laughter and kindness
- I woke up one rainy night terrified, and convinced that I was being electrocuted...until Joao convinced me that my hand had just fallen asleep :)
- I got to see sloths (with their babies), a paca, howler monkeys and all sorts of colorful birds in their natural habitat on a tour of a sustainable farm near Matagalpa
- Chepe and Eliett got married and I was honored to be a witness in their civil wedding!!!

And now, my time here in Nicaragua (and Central America, for that matter) is nearly over. I write, during a short break from packing up my room here at the CGE house as I prepare to vacate and make space for a large travel delegation that arrives on Thursday. I'll be crashing at my boss's house until my departure and in this last week and a half plan to spend a weekend at the beach with Joao and time here around Managua saying goodbyes.

It's unbelievable to me that I'll be in Minnesota so soon and even more unreal that I've spent nearly two years in Central America. I've been debating about what to do with my blog when I return to the Twin Cities. Perhaps I'll continue, perhaps I'll let it rest peacefully at the close of my time here. Although, as I continue on my path, I'm certain that my transition to home will bring with it a whole plethora of new observations and reflections...so I would guess that I'll keep writing. Thank you again for being such faithful readers. Hope everyone is enjoying spring - wherever they may be, and for those of you in the Midwest - I'll get to enjoy it with you soon!

2010-05-14T12:08:00.000-07:00

"My hope is that the youth would return to the streets to make history."

-Fernando Cardenal

on racial profiling here and there...

2010-04-28T11:11:00.000-07:00

Girls from the United States have a reputation here in Latin America. Whether we're here spring break-ing, studying or doing non-profit work, people often assume that we're 'liberal'. And I don't mean that they assume we're all democrats, but rather they think we're all easy - as if being 'liberal' (educated and empowered about sexual rights) means that we all enjoy sleeping around.

And yes, as a white girl from Minnesota this is pretty much the extent of my negative 'racial profiling' experience. Does it matter if people here assume I'm a slut when they see the color of my hair? Not really, they can't do anything other than approach me and quickly find out they're mistaken. But does it piss me off? Every single time, yes.

I'm certain that my annoyance in such situations pales in comparison to the anger Latinos must feel in the face of the blatant racism and stereotyping they confront in the states. Certainly Latinos aren't the only ones who face racial-profiling - but this new law seems to me as much like an insult as it does a negation of people's human rights. Not only are they legalizing racism, they're doing it in a way that exposes their belief that Latinos are a powerless demographic.

Thank heavens people are proving them wrong; and god bless solidarity. As enraging as the words and actions of many legislators in the south west have been, it's been encouraging to see such an organization of people against it. It's about time we start talking about immigration. I guess I spoke too soon in my last post; turns out there are things that will get people into the streets at home too.

to the streets...

2010-04-22T08:23:00.000-07:00

Last week while we were in the country I commented to Suyen that this semester felt different. Usually as we drive into Managua we also enter a world of political unrest - of alleged electoral fraud or shady changes to the constitution or enormous manifestations -both for and against the current leadership - and it seems that el famoso Daniel Ortega is always at the middle of it all.

This time things felt strangely calm.

And then this week, in the oppressive heat of Managua, it all exploded. Really the issue started a few months back, when Ortega (the president) issued a decree that would allow the current 'magistrados' (like supreme court judges) to stay in power longer. A few of those judges put his decree (or "decretazo") to the test last week and refused to turn in their robes. Fighting and name-calling and all sorts of anger ensued between the magistrados themselves last week and then this week, in Nicaraguan style, the people took to the streets.

As the opposing legislators attempted to come together on Tuesday to address the issue, they encountered mobs with mortars at the national assembly and then later the make-shift assembly was hunted down at the Holiday Inn. The police kept the people from getting in, but didn't do much else to control the situation. The news scenes of protesters (or 'gangster like thugs' as they are being referred to in many US news articles/channels), of cars being set on fire, and the background noise of mortars being fired in the distance are all too familiar. And continued yesterday and continue today as I write.

It's hard to write about details because it's so hard to fully understand what's going on - even being here and watching the news and talking to people and knowing a bit of background - I don't really get it. Reading articles from the North American perspective generally upset me, to talk about it all you have to simplify it and truly it's anything but simple. What do you do with a guy like Ortega in the context of Nicaragua? Does this count as democracy, when the people feel the need to take to the streets every few months? Is this democracy embodied? People making their desires and needs known?

I'm reading Howard Zinn's "A People's History of the United States" right now and the current situation here and that of the states in the late 1800's seem to have some powerful commonalities - people were organizing and unionizing and marching up to capital hill with demands and guns and fire in their bellies year after year. And honestly, I'm not sure why we've become so docile.

Obviously it's not easy to live in a place with so much unrest. Many Nicaraguans I've spoken with this week are upset by the protests, the traffic, the violence; they sigh and say "we just want to work". There are lots of accusations about who is financing these protests, who's really behind them, it's complex. There's no way I can write adequately about it. However, I do like that Nicaragua never lets one stop thinking about these issues, it's raw, it's pulsing and you can't avoid really thinking about the nature of power and corruption, of government and society.

to live now...

2010-04-07T09:16:00.000-07:00

"The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory."

- Howard Zinn

on nicas and nationality...

2010-03-25T17:22:00.000-07:00

New week, new country. I guess that happens a lot in this job. Although I'm not sure why it was such a bizarre sensation to me this time around - the idea that life, almost entirely, could be so different just a few days later. The rhythm changes, staff changes, climate changes (goodness it's hot here) and the political landscape changes.

Nicaragua is distinct from the other two countries for lots of reasons, but especially due to its unique history: a Revolution that triumphed and a counter-revolution that ravaged the country. Earthquakes and hurricanes and leaders that seem to take advantage of the people rather than build them up, have left Nicaragua in tough shape economically. It's the largest country in Central America, rich in resources, but the second poorest in the hemisphere, after Haiti.

This economic situation means that lots of people immigrate. However, while hundreds of Salvadorans are going to the States every day, people in Nicaragua are filling the jobs left behind in Honduras, Guatemala and Salvador...and most commonly, attempting to cross the border into Costa Rica, where there are better jobs with better wages. It's created quite the contempt filled relationship between these neighboring nations; one similar to that between Mexico and the United States. On Tuesday, Joao brought me to the national theater to see 'El Nica'; a monologue in which a Nicaraguan immigrant talks about his faith, life, journey, challenges, rage, hope and pride.

It was incredibly moving to see an immigrant's resilience depicted with such humor and honesty, and painful to see how humans treat each other based on border and class. However, for me, the most powerful moment was the end, when the whole theater stood up and applauded their flag, so many with tears in their eyes for their people and enormous pride in their country. I stood there and applauded as well - feeling somewhat out of place - having one of those moments where I wonder 'How did I end up here? A gringa in Nicaragua, caring so much about immigration to Costa Rica? How is it that life/my decisions brought me here? Why haven't I ever clapped for my flag with tears in my eyes?' And all of the sudden I felt so saddened by the fact that I'm not proud of where I'm from. I was so envious of all of those people who tell you where they're from with that sure smile on their face like nothing anyone could say about their homeland would make them any less proud of it. And me, I'm not proud of it, just ridiculously privileged because of it - life is so strange.

And in the midst of this little question-session going on in my head, the actor began to wind together the Costa Rican and Nicaraguan flag, and the applause swelled. And with that symbolic action I started to feel part of what was going on again, because then I felt part of a movement. So I don't sing to stars and stripes - and that doesn't mean I'm ashamed of where I'm from - I'm just also not boasting about what my nationality so often stands for in places like Latin America. I'd rather identify with this group of people, with people in general that also want borders to mean less and people to mean more. I want so much of who I am to be about learning and educating in order to move closer to treating people like humans regardless of nationality.

Back in real life, turns out I don't get to turn my passport in for one to some 'nationless utopia' where everyone is equal. Hm. Which means I'm reminded, again and again, that being born in Iowa rather than Managua means that I was also born with a responsibility to use my privilege to love better, to be generous, and to work for changes that validate the idea that people are more than their nationality.

marching for Romero and peace...

2010-03-22T12:12:00.000-07:00

Our time in El Salvador always flies by. We only spend four weeks there to begin with, and to add to the chaos, we spend every weekend in a different community observing the ways they have decided to live out Liberation Theology.

This time around, the students begged to stay one day longer than usual. The march commemorating the 30 year anniversary of Monsenor Romero's assassination was held on Saturday (our scheduled day of departure) and the students wanted to be there. After a month of hearing about this man - revered as a prophet by many and a as saint by others - they wanted to be there and to march in solidarity. And I'm so glad that we did.

It was a moving day for a lot of reasons. Despite the fact that I've only spent a total of 4 months in El Salvador over the course of the past 2 years, we ran into so many people that I've met along the way: members of christian base communities, local youth, other foreigners working for social justice. There was a sense of community that was touching. A sense that those of us who truly long for things to be different aren't alone in that desire. And in the few years since I've dedicated myself to this path, this path of attempting to live serving and loving others - I've realized that those moments of feeling deep solidarity and hope in a collective people are fewer than I'd like them to be. And therefore they must be appreciated, savored even.

The march began with a victorious feel, and we've definitely got to celebrate victories! Romero is celebrated every year, but this was the first year that the government officially joined the people in this celebration and publicly apologized for his murder. President Funes came to the march and declared that Romero was the greatest patriot El Salvador has ever seen and that the current government would measure their work for a better society according to how it is measuring up to Romero's vision for El Salvador. If you know the history of politics in El Salvador (too lengthy and complex to get into here), this is truly incredible.

And then we marched. We marched for a few hours from one of the richer parts of San Salvador right down into the center, to the national cathedral. It was downhill, and as we worked our way closer to the cathedral, the buildings were more and more run down, the street vendors more desperate to sell, the smell far less appealing, a downright stench, in fact. Poverty isn't pretty. It seemed beautifully appropriate to me in that moment that there was such an unpleasant contrast from where we started and where we were finishing.

Romero didn't plan to become the advocate he became. He could have easily stayed in his comfortable position of power and chosen not to walk into the pain and suffering, and ultimately the death, of the poor and repressed. But he did. And if we look at the paths that people in power generally take, that's a pretty miraculous act. Romero inspired a thirst for justice and empowered a battered people to use their faith for fuel - not only to claim their rights but to fuel them into living out their faith through relationships. The month in El Salvador always reminds me, in new ways, that this 'revolutionary' stuff is really about relationships and that my faith is really what fuels my desire for revolution, my desire for genuine peace.

A few words from Romero:

"Do you want to know if your Christianity is genuine? Here is the touchstone: Whom do you get along with? Who are those who criticize you? who are those who do not accept you? Who are those who flatter you?"

"Peace is not the product of terror or fear. Peace is not the silence of cemeteries. Peace is not the silent result of violent repression. Peace is the generous, tranquil contribution of all to the good of all. Peace is dynamism. Peace is generosity. It is right and it is duty."

no tengo miedo a la muerte...

2010-03-10T12:51:00.000-08:00

Ya no tengo miedo a la muerte,
conozco muy bien
su corredor oscuro y frío
que conduce a la vida.

I am no longer afraid of death,
I know well
its dark and cold corridors
leading to life.

Tengo miedo de esa vida
que no surge de la muerte,
que acalambra las manos
y entorpece nuestra marcha.

I am afraid rather of that life
which does not come out of death,
which cramps our hands
and slows our march.

Tengo miedo de mi miedo,
y aún más del miedo de los otros,
que no saben a donde van
y se siguen aferrando
a algo que creen que es la vida
y nosotros sabemos que es la muerte!

I am afraid of my fear
And even more of the fear of others,
who do not know where they are going,
Who continue clinging
to what they think is life
Which we know to be death!

Vivo cada día para matar la muerte,
muero cada día para parir la vida,
y en esta muerte de la muerte,
muero mil veces
y resucito otras tantas,
desde el amor que alimenta
de mi Pueblo,
la esperanza!

I live each day to kill death;
I die each day to give birth to life,
and in this death of death,
I die a thousand times
and am reborn another thousand
through that love
from my People,
which nourishes hope!

-by: julia esquivel

at our doorstep...

2010-03-01T18:48:00.000-08:00

Now, I don't generally agree with much of what Reagan said or did, but I thought this quote offered some perspective:

"San Salvador is closer to Houston, Texas, than Houston is to Washington, D.C. Central America is America; it's at our doorstep."
-televised national address on May 9th, 1984

You know, we're really not that far away down here, and if that's the case, why doesn't life here matter to the majority in the United States? Things just shouldn't be as they are. If a family member moves from Minnesota to Washington for a promotion, we applaud them for taking economic strides. If an El Salvadoran moves from San Salvador to San Antonio, they're immediately considered a criminal.

While this argument was used by Reagan to defend killing hundreds of thousands in a war against communism, today I hope it might inspire a little grace and empathy for those who fall outside of the arbitrary borders that decide who is worthy of opportunity and who isn't. It's worth thinking about the lines we draw to differentiate one human's worth from that of another.

dying in El Salvador...

2010-02-25T17:43:00.000-08:00

I'm not even sure how to write about El Salvador. So I've been putting it off; which is a shame, because it's a fascinating place.

I look forward to our arrival here and the process of learning and analysis that students begin in their Liberation Theology course. In Guatemala they learn a skill, they learn to speak Spanish. Here in El Salvador, they learn about a reality that hardly seems possible, and one that certainly hasn't created ideal conditions for hope. They have the opportunity to hear people's testimonies and they are challenged both in conversation and in readings to 'take people down from their crosses'.

In El Salvador crosses and suffering aren't figurative. People are dying at incredibly saddening rates. According to the blog Voices on the Border, there were 440 reported murders in the first 5 weeks of 2010. Keep in mind that this is a tiny country - with a total population about equal to that of New York City. To put that number into perspective, New York City only reported 419 murders for the entirety of 2009. It's a problem that keeps getting worse - and people don't really know why. The majority of the victims are gang members, and are young males. However, many have been bus drivers or "political activists, presumably killed for their opinions and public pronouncements".

It's incredible that in a "post-war" country, people can't leave their houses at night. This situation of such extreme violence has brought the military back to the streets to attempt to protect civilians. During the war, the United States sent an average of 1.5 million dollars a day to support the government's attempt to wipe out the 'communists'. The Truth Commission after the war reported that the guerrillas were responsible for approximately 5% of the war crimes. In a conflict that took about 70,000 lives, that means the 'bad guys' the US was paying so much to fight were responsible for about 3,500 deaths...over the course of 12 years.

If murder rates keep up their current rate - El Salvador will loose 4,576 people to violence this year alone. Last year 4,365 were killed.

What is the US sending now? USAID is working on some development projects, and non-profits are doing what they can; but mostly, the US is sending trade agreements that favor the powerful and deporting poor Salvadorans back to a place where there aren't any jobs, and there's a whole lot of death. It sure isn't sending 1.5 million a day. Of course, a million a day wouldn't be the answer (would it?). I don't know what the answer is, but this tiny country's current plight deserves to be heard.

In our religion class we're encouraged not only to ask ourselves about 'taking people down from their crosses' but also "How am I complicit in building crosses?" As a citizen of one of the most powerful nations in the world, living in a reality like El Salvador's, this question haunts me daily.

(pictures: sketches of salvadoran torture victims - rendition of the stations of the cross from the UCA chapel in San Salvador)

humbling perspective...

2010-02-21T20:26:00.000-08:00

Last week, during our rural stay in a tiny Guatemalan, mountain community I was fortunate enough to stay with the same family that received me and Chepe back in September. I arrived exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and on the eve of my 27th birthday. My two little 'host-sisters' ran out to greet me: "Seno Rebekah!" And I was so honored that these gorgeous little ladies remembered me fondly. It strangely felt something like a homecoming. Throughout the course of the week, the entire family continuously awed me with their enthusiasm and open love, their heartbreaking generosity and their gratitude. Over and over, their ability to put things in perspective humbled me and my often, all too enormous lack of perspective.

We spent meal times together, in their cozy kitchen, around their table chatting, the girls drifting off to sleep on my lap. I thought often about what I've heard many say in response to such beautiful displays of humanity in a new or different culture - "Look, they're poor, but they're happy." And I'd agree; they are poor and they are - for the most part - happy.

But if that's true, it's because they've chosen to be happy. They have plenty of reason not to be: the smoke from that 'cozy' wood-burning stove is killing their Grandma. She can hardly talk and her lungs are as black as the walls. Mama Alba has a debt so large, due to mistakes not her own, that she fears losing their house and land. The kids study without pencils or paper and work tilling the land by hand and chew their food on painfully rotted out teeth, but they smile when they dance and they get excited about garbanzo beans for dessert and they cuddle up with each other, finding the happiness to be found in simple situations and each other. My host mom landed a 'temp' job of sorts while I was staying there. It would only be a few weeks of work - but opportunity is so scarce that this was a huge victory. She just beamed and I ached. I want so deeply for them to have opportunity.

And what amazed me is that it seemed clear to me that they choose to get up every day and live out of a deep perspective; appreciating the things that can bring light rather than passively watching the darkness envelop them. So good for them that they are 'happy' - and good for people for recognizing the beauty of that - as long as it isn't used as an excuse not to do anything. In really seeing the miracle in their ability to live with less and choose happiness I was challenged, and hope others would feel the same, to do more to serve, live with less and still be 'happy'. Their ability to have perspective and find joy doesn't negate my responsibility to ALSO live with deep perspective, as if their happiness somehow justifies their daily injustices.

I came down from that mountain full of their light and burdened by the deep aching, the gut feeling that they deserve so much more. I felt burdened by the responsibility that beginning to learn how to love a people so oppressed entails and yet happier than I have in a long while.

multiply by three...

2010-02-17T11:03:00.000-08:00

During my time here in Central America I've thought a great deal about life in post-war countries. About what war does to the infrastructure and the economy of a nation; but more so, what it does to the psyche of a people.

Guatemala survived 36 years of war. Thirty-six years of 'internal conflict' affects the way a country acts internally, obviously. It affects the way that people treat each other and talk to each other and the decisions they make. One of our speakers mentioned a sociological study that claims a country needs 3 times the number of years spent in war in order to leave behind the culture of fear and distrust that it generates. Which would mean Guatemala is looking at 108 years...and they're only 14 year in, with 94 to go.

That's a pretty dismal panorama...but in the face of that idea, we still see organization. And perhaps more than in certain communities in peaceful countries. It's pretty incredible when communities - whether out of necessities or ideals - rise out of such an extreme culture of fear to organize and help/support each other. Both post-war and peaceful countries need our encouragement in doing so, it seem. So here's to organizing, and here's to breaking down barriers constructed by fear, and here's to healing.

(mural from PLQ with a quote from Pablo Neruda: 'Podrán cortar las flores, pero no podrán detener la primavera.'/'They can cut down the flowers, but they can't stop spring.')

constant change...

2010-02-13T06:01:00.000-08:00

We've been in Guatemala for four weeks now and we're headed out to Santa Anita - a community of ex-guerrillas that have 'traded in the smell of gunpowder for the smell of coffee'. They work together as a cooperative to produce coffee and we get to spend the weekend hearing their story and touring their gorgeous property (and drinking lots of coffee!). After that we'll spend a week in the countryside learning about rural life in Guatemala.

Things are wrapping up here, is what I'm trying to say, I guess. And that's happened three other times, but this week, it's likely the last time. I'll often complain about certain parts of the semester but I've grown quite fond of Xela and I will miss lots about it.

There's something incredible about the way that knowing you're leaving a place changes perspective. For me it heightens things - food tastes better, people seem more interesting, music more nostalgic, mountains more grandiose, sunsets more beautiful. Maybe that's why I've turned into this strange breed of transition-junkie. Constant change doesn't let you get used to much or take much for granted.

I don't think my post has a 'point' today really. I suppose I'm just more conscious of the emotions surrounding coming and going this time through. I hope that you're all well and surviving the snow at home :) I miss you.

acknowledgment...

2010-02-02T07:32:00.000-08:00

We're a few weeks into our time here in Guatemala and things are moving along quite nicely. Students have, thus far, averted extreme/bizarre illnesses (no Scarlet Fever this time around - thank God). And despite the group being small, they are good to each other and have displayed an impressive level of interest and appreciation for our speakers.

I've been reading more than normal and going to bed early, probably part of the reason I haven't been writing here as much as I'd like to. But I have been thinking much about solitude and presence and why we're/I'm here in Central America.

On Saturday we went to a small indigenous community where we heard the story of a group of widows. Before we make the hike down to their houses Fidel always teaches us some words in Quiche and reminds us that by attempting to speak their language, by listening to their story, and by sharing a meal with them - we show them that we value who they are. This has been a recurring theme during my time here: that with your presence alone, you can show someone you value them.

I'm reading a wonderful novel in which a dying Reverend writes a long letter to his boy in hopes of telling him the things that might not ever be told otherwise. He speaks about baptism and the act of blessing something.

"There is a reality in blessing...It doesn't enhance sacredness, but acknowledges it, and there is power in that. I have felt it pass through me, so to speak. the sensation of really knowing a creature, I mean really feeling its mysterious life and your own mysterious life at the same time."

It's pretty unlikely that I'll ever baptize anyone, but my hope would be that through our presence and our solidarity with these communities, we would bless them - and acknowledge the sacredness within them. Certainly I am always blessed by them.

right relationships...

2010-01-20T12:21:00.000-08:00

We're lucky enough, at the beginning of each semester, to meet with a political science professor from the capital who updates us on the 'current situation' here in Guatemala. I have started to look forward to this talk because rather than numbers and names of presidents and congressmen, etc...he pulls us into a process of critical analysis while painting a picture of

Guatemala

in relation to other countries around the globe.

When he asked the students how they would guess he responded to an invitation to join the guerrilla movement when he was just 21, one responded "I bet you said 'no'; you don't seem like a violent person". He chuckled and explained that he's not - that he has never killed anyone, doesn't know how to use weapons - but he believed that it was his 'deber' (duty) to join a movement that he felt was really struggling for the people and change. And then, and this is my favorite part, he talked at length about how someone can't really be revolutionary or encourage change if they aren't living in right relationships: with their kids, their neighbors, their classmates, their friends. If we can't figure out how to live in community - if we don't discuss political issues in a loving way with the people close to us, why would we expect our politicians to push through bi-partisan bills? If we don't treat the people in our house well - why would we expect people to make sacrifices for strangers?

It all starts with right relationships. And that's do-able. Poco a poco.

suerte del gato negro...

2010-01-17T19:24:00.000-08:00

A cat fell through the roof of my room this morning.

I arrived here in Guatemala late last night after a sweet good-bye in Managua and a short plane ride into the capital. The hostel is empty; students don't arrive until tomorrow and my trusty companero Chepe won't be with me for parts of the semester, this being one of them.

So I got to bed kind of late and in the midst of strange dreams, around 5:45 am, I hear a loud crash and quick movement on the other side of the room. Entirely disoriented (not being able to remember exactly where I was) I tried to figure out what had happened and noticed a hole in the ceiling...right above my computer. I walked over to that side of the room, in the dark and reached across the bed to unplug my laptop when something hissed at me and I, naturally, screamed, waking up the house staff. It was a bit of an ordeal, street cats aren't friendly when they're scared and they certainly aren't something you want hanging out in your luggage. But we got it out, moved my luggage and I went back to sleep for another hour.

Some may consider a black cat falling from the sky, the morning before students' arrival to be a negative omen. However, a black cat in the audience the opening night in theater is also considered to foreshadow a successful play. Choosing to be optimistic, I'll opt for the latter and take it as a sign that the group on it's way here will be fabulous.

longing in the new year...

2010-01-03T19:36:00.000-08:00

Well, it's a new year and a new semester, and with slight hesitation, I'd like to renew a commitment to write here more often. Being home for break was lovely and seeing people that I care about so deeply, that love me so well, is always life giving. It also reminds me of the stark differences between my world here and my world there, reminding me how important it is to write from time to time. To relay pieces of a different reality. If nothing else, to share a different perspective. To all who vocalized appreciation for these little musings I post, thank you; it's incredible encouragement.

Today was also a day of commitment for my brother and sister-in-law as they, with family present, participated in Noah's dedication at their home church. (Noah is 6 months old now and as adorable as ever - see 'proud-aunt-picture' to side.) I'm back in Nicaragua, so I obviously couldn't be there but I haven't stopped thinking about him, and his amazing parents, all day. I love my work and feel that this is where I should be; but I just hate being so far away on days like today.

I asked myself, in an email to my mom "How does one prioritize such important things like this? And will they still know how much I love them all...although I wasn't there for that specific moment?" She answered (in her never-ending wisdom and consistently speedy response time) with a blessing encouraging my longing. My longing to be in more than one place at once, my longing to help create spaces for change, my longing to belong to a circle of friends, a movement, to show family how crucial they are to who I am and how I move through this world.

So I thought I'd pass along her blessing, holding this sentiment for my little nephew as well as all of you reading this. Happy new year.

For Longing
by John O'Donohue

Blessed be the longing that brought you here
And quickens your soul with wonder.

May you have the courage to listen to the voice of desire
That disturbs you when you have settled for something safe.

May you have the wisdom to enter generously into your own unease
To discover the new direction your longing wants you to take.

May the forms of your belonging - in love, creativity, and friendship -
Be equal to the grandeur and the call of your soul.

May the one you long for long for you.

May your dreams gradually reveal the destination of your desire.

May a secret Providence guide your thought and nurture your feeling.

May your mind inhabit your life with the sureness with which your body inhabits the world.

May your heart never be haunted by ghost-structures of old damage.

May you come to accept your longing as divine urgency.

May you know the urgency with which God longs for you.

despidiendo de nuevo...

2009-12-14T08:47:00.000-08:00

The office is quiet and I'm between wrapping up semester stuff and packing for my trip home. Last week was full of reflections and final projects goodbyes, and really moving realizations from the students.

I really dislike having to watch them all go every 6 months, but I love getting to hear about the changes that this program has caused in their perspectives, in their approach to the world and their future work. The last week is always that shot of adrenaline that reminds me why I love this job and believe so much in learning from the stories of the underdog, in the growth and change that comes from living and learning in community, in looking at your own country, own people from a new viewpoint.

The things we hear during the process of the semester can be at times horrifying and overwhelming, and yet, people continue on with their struggle. Personally, if I try to look at it all at once, I'm almost dizzy. However, last week as I sat and listened to the students, one by one, talk about transformation and awakening things felt slightly closer to 'changeable'. This work of changing the status quo is slow and frustrating and seemingly impossible at times but important and honestly, I hope that it's always what I'm dedicated to. Whatever form it takes.

For the students who just left, and those who left a year ago and 7 months ago, thank you for taking this journey and taking it all to heart.

Do not depend on the hope of results. When you are doing the sort of work you have taken on, essentially an apostolic work, you may have to face the fact that your work will be apparently worthless and even achieve no result at all, if not perhaps results opposite to what you expect. As you get used to this idea, you start more and more to concentrate not on the results but on the value, the righteousness, and the truth of the work itself. And there too a great deal has to be gone through, as gradually you struggle less and less for an idea and more and more for specific people. The range tends to narrow down, but it gets much more real. In the end, it is the reality of personal relationships that saves everything.
- Thomas Merton

grateful...

2009-11-26T06:55:00.000-08:00

It's 9 am Thanksgiving day and already 84 degrees and rising. I walked into the kitchen this morning and was greeted with a 'Como amaneciste?' as the cooks were already starting to prepare our traditional United States-ian feast. Certainly it's a strange thing to be in such a different place on these larger holidays. The table at my parents' house seems so far away, and yet it's all I can think about today.

Thankfully, Thanksgiving is one of those holidays that doesn't let you off easy. You just can't be grumpy on Thanksgiving - it's contrary to the whole essence of the holiday. This day demands gratitude; and that's a lovely thing, I think. My mother speaks often of gratitude and raised us in a house that demanded we be conscious of all of the ways that we were blessed. And, over the years, it's become clear to me how much happier I am when I'm grateful, how much more motivated and willing, believing and open I can be when I'm conscious of my great fortune.

I'm reading a book right now in which the main character talks about 'big bursts' and 'little bursts' as getting her through life. Big bursts like my stunning, new, little nephew, having a job that i adore, the engagement or marriage of a dear friend. And the more day-to-day things that keep us going - little bursts: a letter from home, dancing until I'm exhausted, opening a new jar of peanut butter, or my companero Chepe managing to crack me up every day.

And then there are the over-arching things that don't really burst at all, but gently exist as a glowing foundation below it all. I am grateful for the unconditional love of my family, the friendships that embrace me tenderly as I grow and transform continually, the tenacity I see in the people here and the idea - the stubborn hope - that progress and change, and justice are possible.

I am grateful today. Sweating, but grateful :) I miss you all.
Happy Thanksgiving.

20 years later...

2009-11-16T06:46:00.000-08:00

Today is the 20 year anniversary of the assassination of six Jesuit priests, their housekeeper and her daughter. These priests, through their classes at a Salvadoran university, their writings, and their work with local communities openly struggled against the violence of the 12-year civil war and worked towards peaceful negotiations to end the conflict. Because of their work, they were brutally killed by the Salvadoran army, which was financially supported by the US.

We visit the place they were murdered with students and have the chance hear the history while being in that sacred space (to read old blog posts about our visits, see: 'six of many' or 'hidden in plain sight'). If you have a chance today (or this week) think of El Salvador and educate yourself on it and the United States role in its history.

If you're in Northfield: attend the commemorative events at St. Olaf!
Monday, Nov 16th at 7:00 pm - "El Salvador, What happened to Liberation Theology?" Father James Torrens, Viking Theatre
Wednesday, Nov 18th at 7:00 pm - Documentary "Enemies of War" followed by Q & A, Holland Hall 501

If you're not in Northfield check out a movie about El Salvador:
'Voces Inocentes' - a film made about the civil war in El Salvador
'La Vida Loca' - a recent documentary on gang life in El Salvador
'Hidden in Plain Sight' - a documentary on the School of the Americas

And if you're not a film person, just say a prayer for peace.

Thanks for checking in; I'm headed to the mountains for a few days. I'll be back in a week.

"All the blood of martyrs shed in El Salvador and in all of Latin America, far from plunging us into discouragement and dispair, instills a new spirit of struggle and new hope in our people. In this sense, even if we're not a 'new world' or a 'new continent' we are cleary and verifiably...a continent of hope."
-Jon Sobrino, Jesuit Theologian

what to do about water...

2009-11-13T07:40:00.000-08:00

Water has been on my mind lately. And those of you who know me well know that I haven't always been great about actually drinking it. It's just not something I think about often. I haven't had to. And yet, whenever I've wanted water, it's been right there waiting for me. Easily accessible, without a thought nearly my entire life.

Life in Latin America has made me much more aware of water. The heat demands it, the faucet often unexpectedly fails to dispense it in the city, and the lacking resources in the country make it tough to find and too dirty to drink. 1 in 6 people globally do not have clean drinking water. Families that have taken me in and generously shared their homes with me, walk miles to get water and carry it home, use it scarcely and respectfully and still, tragically, in the last few years, they have watched their children die of diseases caused by dirty drinking water.

Earlier this year a friend recommended the documentary FLOW: For the Love of Water, to me and watching it changed the urgency with which I think about water. (http://www.flowthefilm.com/trailer) The scarcity is scary, absolutely. But what's more frightening to me, is the ease with which we're letting companies bottle and sell us something we can drink for next to nothing from our faucets. That's scary in a country with resources, and even more so in countries where expendable incomes are something known only among the elites.

As I was looking around for different facts about water today I went to google and was less than thrilled to be reminded about our little $79 million moon-bombing to look for water there. I just don't get. Not at all. Am I way out of line to feel that we should start taking care of water sources here on Earth first? That we should start claiming our Earthly water sources for people and nations and thirsty populations before large corporations buy, pollute and exploit them?

After a visit from my family here and their wonderfully relentless asking 'what can we do about it all?' I've been thinking about how to give more ideas for action and hope here in this little blog space I call my own. Of course these are always just suggestions, and I'll hope you'll keep reading even if not moved to action, but I know that being witness to life in a third world country is both a privilege and a responsibility. I personally need to remember that I am connected to people of other nations. That I can affect their lives positively. Probably not as much as I'd like to, but who doesn't need water? This is one sustainable, tangible, easy way we can improve people's quality of life.

A few ideas:

Those of us privileged enough to have regulated, drinkable tap water, should drink tap water, and encouraging our local and state governments to protect it and the water sources in our home states.

Educate yourself about water!
- Watch FLOW (Rent it or search for it online, many documentary sites provide free links)
- Read one of the many books out there bringing this issue to light: Blue Gold, Bottlemania, etc...

Donate to organizations helping abroad:

charity: water - building wells in Africa to bring clean water to entire communities

Potters for Peace - Helps potters around the world set up facilities to produce and sell water filters to families that don't have access to an uncontaminated well or other clean water source. The filters are low-tech, low-cost ($15-25), and effectively eliminates 99.88% of most water-born diseases.

"The banks of a river may belong to one man or one industry or one State, but the waters which flow between the banks should belong to all the people."
-LBJ, 1965 when singing the Clean Water Act

fascinated with family...

2009-11-06T15:40:00.000-08:00

It's been nearly a week since my family headed out from their week long visit to Nicaragua. And still, at least one person a day asks me how the visit went - I guess I mentioned it to a few people! It's fabulous to be able to say that we had a wonderful week and that I'm continually reminded of how fortunate I am to have family like them.

It went ridiculously fast, as expected and after a day in colonial Nicaragua, a day at the lake, time in Managua, a visit to an ocean resort and an interesting (rainy) day on a nearby mountain with friends...they were hugging me goodbye. And suddenly I was no long surrounded by this group of people who somehow manage to make me feel more me than nearly anyone else can.

They left and I laid down and cried - sad to see them go of course, but also overwhelmingly grateful. To have a family that affirms the decisions I've made and the things I love by coming all the way here to see them, to laugh and love through it, and to remain so entirely open to the experience and whatever it might gift them...well, I think that's remarkable. I think I'm remarkably blessed.

give us roses...

2009-10-22T19:34:00.000-07:00

"Hearts can starve as well as bodies, give us bread, and give us roses!"

- Utah Philips, Ani de Franco

Amid packing, and final projects and an intense Yankees game, we're wrapping up the program in El Salvador. This last week has involved chances to speak with different organizations working with women's issues, the environment and neoliberalism. I've learned a great deal - and would love to write about some of those things (perhaps I will a bit later) but tonight I'm just signing in to say that it hasn't all been heavy.

We've made time for a bit of fun - we got to go to a futbol game last week (El Sal v. Honduras - Honduras won and qualified for the World Cup) and bowling in a pre-celebration for a student's birthday. And, I am blessed enough to have a great deal to look forward to - my family arrives in Nicaragua in a few short days! I get to spend my vacation soaking in their presence and showing them around country that has become very important to me. Amid all of the weight of the issues among us and the change that's necessary - I'm grateful to have moments to lighten things a little, moments of hope with speakers, moments to remember all of the good that continues to bless me.

were you there?

2009-10-18T15:27:00.000-07:00

I've done this semester trip a few times already; so I've been through most of the activities once or twice. And while I don't get bored - this does afford me a sort of luxury in being able to mentally and emotionally prepare myself for certain activities.

Yesterday I knew, as we took the boat across the lake, that we were headed toward a massacre site. I knew that while sitting there in that sacred place, we would listen to a difficult testimony. Testimony of a man who was just a boy when he watched an unjust, bloody attack by the army take the lives of his entire family and another 100-some people from his community.

His community had been persecuted by the government army because of the suspicion of a 'guerrilla presence'. During one foreseen attack the majority of the civilians had escaped across the lake, but returned too soon, before the army had gone entirely, and they were seen at the banks of the lake. And here begins his story, running down the hill, watching rolling boulders smash other children, watching his parents, his siblings, aunts and uncles get shot and fall into the water, watching body parts of the people escaping in boats be severed and strewn through the air by grenades viciously hurled. And as if this red mess at the shore weren't enough, they marched the survivors through another three days of torture. All the time telling them that they were headed toward the capital and then, at the end, raping and killing the girls and dividing the remaining people into three groups and killing each in a distinctly cruel way.

His story is long, and it wasn't the first time I had heard it. I watched the ants and centipedes and all variety of bugs crawl past me and under me and I broke twigs and kept my hands busy throughout. He did the same, ringing his hands, placing them on his hips, crossing and uncrossing his arms, constantly moving but somehow much calmer this time than the last. He has said before that the telling of his story is difficult, but shedding light on such an extreme reality is important and for him, healing.

I sat there and wondered how it was that I wasn't crying as I listened to the first hand testimony of a man who was 9 years old when he watched his entire family be brutally killed, while he watched a man get hung from a tree and beat to death as if he were a pinata, when he watched dogs and vultures eat the raped, assassinated bodies of the young women with whom he had spent his childhood. Of the three times that I had heard it, never had I cried. Until yesterday.

Our professor had requested that our Olaf student, a violin player, bring her instrument and play a benediction of sorts. She stood up after nearly 2 hours of testimony and with a few lines from three, perfectly chosen hymns, she beautifully embodied the pain and bewilderment, the hope and commitment of the moment.

"Were you there when they crucified my Lord?" was the first one, and as soon as I heard it, I couldn't help but weep. Hymns can be so powerful and this music is just so much a part of the base of my faith. A faith that has changed and grown and begun to encompass a world full of extreme hurt and beauty. This month has truly pushed me to look for the divine in people, to serve God by serving 'the least of these' to see our 'suffering servant' in the poor, the oppressed. And talk about new light being shed on old theology: I was sitting there where they crucified so many, where they crucified my Lord. And that question had never felt so personal, so pertinent, so demanding. How could one not tremble at the thought of it all?

I am here where so many are being crucified. The armed conflict was terrible, but in many ways, things continue on the same. Gang violence and hunger, unjust economic policy and brutal assassinations on the immigration path to the United States continue to rob these people of life and the opportunities that my 'higher power' has clearly stated belong to all. ALL.

And last night, I laid in bed and listened to the little boys in my homestay (the nephews of the man who gave testimony that morning) giggle as they recited their own versions of the Lord's Prayer. I was reminded of a piece of our professor's re-written 'People's Prayer':

"Forgive our giving up, our fixation on being
comfortable and powerful...
Forgive our inability to see beyond our street and experience,
thereby denying the lives lived by others
and denying the power and complexity that is you.
We have trespassed on your fullness,
your design, your sacred spaces.

Your voice cries in pain with ours,
will not remain Silent in the
face of injustice, will not let violence strip
Love from Life.

For you are the Creatrix,
the season-changer, the maker of snow,
the center of hope, a Spectrum of Aliveness. "

like any other moment....

2009-10-13T06:14:00.000-07:00

"Liberation theology isn't just 'of a moment' but since bible times, since there have been believers, there has always been a theology with liberation at its base. This moment may not be the biggest or most critical moment in time; but still - like any other moment in history - the social structure has to change. And maybe it will always be that way. As a result, liberation theology has something to say about current issues; liberation theology will always be relevant."

- Jesuit priest and professor in El Salvador

for they shall inherit the moon...

2009-10-08T09:45:00.000-07:00

"It's official: we're bombing the moon" - my coworker Chepe

So I looked it up, and he's right. Scheduled to happen tomorrow - and why not? Crash something into the moon to see if we can find water. And who is this water for? Potential, future, moon-dwellers it seems. Now, I am fully aware that I am not a scientist, and probably don't even realize all of the ways that I benefit from technology developed, in part, by discoveries made by NASA.

But even so, even if that is the case, over the course of the last year, I have met plenty of people who don't even benefit from the luxury of clean water. Over the last year I've seen levels of people living in conditions I couldn't previously imagine. Those of you who have been reading for a while may remember my visit to the Acahualinca dump in Nicaragua. (see post: trash, Dec 2008). This breaking news brought a poem to mind; about the moon and the people of Acahualinca, Nicaragua. It's long, but an interesting commentary, so I'll post parts of it below.

Really? We can't figure out how to get water to all the people that need it here on Earth, but we can start bombing the moon to see if there might possibly be some for potential, future dwellers?

The Earth is a Satellite of the Moon

Apollo 2 cost more than Apollo 1

Apollo 1 cost plenty.

Apollo 3 cost more than Apollo 2

Apollo 2 cost more than Apollo 1

Apollo 1 cost plenty...

Apollo 8 cost a fortune, but no one minded

because the astronauts were Protestant

they read the bible from the moon

astounding and delighting every Christian

and on their return Pope Paul VI gave them his blessing.

Apollo 9 cost more than all these put together

including Apollo 1 which cost plenty.

The parents of the people of Acahualinca were less hungry than the children of the people there.

The parents died of hunger.

The people of the Acahualinca are less hungry than the children of the people there.

The children of the people of Acahualinca, because of hunger, are not born

they hunger to be born, only to die of hunger.

Blessed are the poor for they shall inherit the moon.

- Leonel Rugama

a bride...

2009-10-03T20:12:00.000-07:00

When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

- Mary Oliver

somos realistas...

2009-09-30T21:19:00.000-07:00

We've delved into classes since arriving here in El Salvador on Sunday. We just spend four weeks here, but they are four of the most intense weeks of the program; for me, El Salvador has an energy, and electricity about it. In three days our conversations have touched topics from abundance to 'the gift of anguish', corrupt politics to 'integral development', extreme violence to stubborn hope. It's so much, that I'm often unsure where to begin when I sit down to write.

El Salvador is a tiny, chaotic country with an overwhelmingly distressing past and present; and still, I see such obstinate hope in the people that I can't help but be encouraged. In so many, I see a faith that lies not in a God that's bigger than them, beyond them and distant, but in the idea that there is extreme potential for the 'divine within' to manifest itself in the people. And I like that.

"No somos exceisvamente pesimista.
Somos realistas.
Sabemos que hay obstaculos grandes,
Pero no negamos la potencial en la sociedad Salvadorena".

"We're not excessively pessimistic.
We're realistic.
We know there are huge obstacles,
But we do not deny the potential of Salvadoran society".

human connection...

2009-09-25T20:34:00.000-07:00

In previous semesters I have spent my last week in Guatemala at 'the mountain school' - a Spanish school in a rural area of Guatemala near Colomba. This semester (since our group is mini) we all ventured out together to a new rural community about a half an hour from Xela.

Mornings consisted of Spanish class (for me as well! still working on the subjunctive, unfortunately enough) and the afternoons were filled with activities teaching us about issues the community is facing and initiatives the people are taking in response. We dove into topics such as immigration, water, deforestation, education (i.e. lack of funding for education) and cooperatives. I learned an incredible amount, all of this set in a breathtaking corn'field' tucked away in the mountains.

What I will most remember from the week though is, without doubt, our host-family. Grandma, Grandpa, Mom and her four children were, without exception, utterly endearing. Home stays are a part of my job, and while I always appreciate getting to chat with people and hear different perspectives, I don't generally expect to get attached in a week anymore. I think that the 6 year old daughter in this family stole our hearts the first day and throughout the week we (Joe and I) only grew to appreciate them more.

They were just such strong people. People who have worked incredibly hard, have been integral in the creation of their community, have advocated for people's rights, who continue, with what little they have, to provide for both their children but also a widow from the war and neighbors who have even less than they do. It was humbling and heartwarming to see the ways in which they battle for the good of their family, of their community.

And yet, so often it was just heartbreaking to spend time with them. Grandma would walk into the kitchen to see all of her grandchildren eating and smile and say 'mis pollitos' (my little chickens) -- you could tell that she was content, proud even, to see them all eating. And yet, they weren't sure where their next meals would come from.

I could write much more about them, but really, what it boils down to is that they humanized poverty for me. I wish that all of my loved ones could meet this family, could see this community, could laugh with them and be touched by the way in which they continue to fight when the odds are impossible. I wish that all of my loved ones could see this poverty up close, could hear about it's viscious cycle from those most affected, would be filled with the just anger of knowing that, despite their beauty and diligence and love, these kids just don't really have a shot.

Small comfort comes from the fact that it wasn't just me out there last week. I was there with 8 students who were hearing the same stories, seeing the same injustices. I am increasingly convinced that only through human connections will we be truly motivated to change...and I guess that's why I love this work.

escarlatina...

2009-09-17T16:46:00.000-07:00

One thing I love about my job is that I am constantly learning new things about history and globalization and Central American politics…and, as it turns out – bizarre medical mishaps. Many of you may remember the post last year about the ‘fire plants’ that gave one of our students second degree burns. This year, we started off right away with an equally strange case. One of the girls let me know that she was getting a rash, but we weren’t all that concerned at first…until it started to spread, *quickly*. Never in my life have I seen a rash so red and so expansive.

Over the course of the following week, this trooper of a student visited three different doctors and received a different diagnosis from each, first it was an allergy/a reaction to her malaria meds, then is was Rubela, then is was an allergic reaction again, and finally, at the last doctor she was treated for Scarlet Fever. Scarlet Fever? I don't think I've heard of anyone getting that since Beth from Little Women got it from the baby next door.

I'm still skeptical about the whole thing; she was treated for so much stuff that who knows what it actually was. But the antibiotics for Scarlet Fever worked. And as she started to heal, the skin started to peel (see pic of arm in process on the left). I repeat, she had a marvelous attitude through the sleepless nights of burning and the shedding and re-shedding of her skin and we're thrilled to report that she's no longer losing skin and the redness has almost entirely disappeared.

quick update...

2009-09-10T17:31:00.000-07:00

I've neglected to write this week - and apologize, but wanted to check in quickly...I'm still here and I'll post something of substance soon! Certainly there is lots going on; we went to the market town of Chichicastenango (see pic of me with Eliett and Joe) last weekend and this coming weekend is our free time. I'm headed to the capital for a night and then to Lake Atitlan.

(And it has finally started to rain!)

'tut tut...'

2009-09-02T08:12:00.000-07:00

From a very early age, I was socialized (in part by Winnie the Pooh and his 'tut tut...looks like rain') to think that talking about the weather was not only something that we do in the face of strange phenomenon or awe, but something we do even when we don't have anything to state but the obvious.

The obvious here in Guatemala this ‘winter’ (aka: the rainy season, which should be upon us) is that it does not look like rain. And it’s what I end up talking about with people, quite a bit actually. This is partially due to the fact that weather is a safe neutral topic, most people will agree – we either need more rain or we don’t. Which is much easier than coming to a similar agreement in regards to, say, taxes.

But this year, it’s not that all that simple really. The gravity of the situation makes it emotional, makes it political. Droughts at home are terrible I, in no way, mean to minimize the pain they cause. Still, it almost seems there’s no comparison to the way that a few months without rain here can affect people. The majority of rural Guatemalans live on less than $2/day. A season without rain, in a country where so many depend on the corn they grow to feed the mouths at their table, means that thousands are dangerously hungry. In the last four months, the number of Guatemalan families at risk for severe malnutrition has quadrupled.

Interestingly enough, when one looks simply at the GDP or other ‘economic indicators’ of how Guatemala’s doing, it’s not all that bad. Disparities unaccounted for and Guatemala is doing ok; however, Guatemala boasts 'the sixth worst rate of chronic malnutrition in the world' (for more stats/info see: 'Hungry in Guatemala': http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200908u/guatemala-hunger). I read an editorial this morning that argued that poverty is humanity's natural state of being, that richness is really the exception and we shouldn't be so shocked or upset that so many are on the edge. And while I may agree that living simply is closer to our 'natural state', I just can't swallow the idea that some have so much while others have so devastatingly little.

Perhaps what's most sad about the situation is that the future prospect for these families doesn’t look good. Without much in the ways of government aid, many have been desperate enough to eat their seed corn, an understandable act if your children may die before the dry spell is over. But in doing so, have devoured both their ability to plant next year’s crop, as well as the freedom they previously maintained from genetically modified seed.

I wouldn’t say that I’ve been passionate about the weather in the past, and know that I complained about the wet September here last year. But this year, when the dark clouds roll in, I find the phrase ‘tut tut…’ always comes to mind, almost as a petition for those who may be able to salvage part of their harvest, for those who have tired of dry, sunny days.

beginnings...

2009-08-25T21:28:00.001-07:00

After a couple of days with the new crew of students, I'm thrilled to report that although our group this semester is small (just eight as opposed to recent groups of 18) thus far the group has been lovely. Considerate, informed, very interested and grateful - they have been a joy to be with and I'm happy and hopeful for a fabulous experience with them all. I love this job and the ability to hear things more than once with people who are hearing it for the first time - there's a consistency and perseverance to it accompanied by new observations and wide eyes - a combination that feels utterly life giving.

Battling a headache tonight, I'm excited to get to bed, so I'll keep it short. Our time here in the capital is already done. Any thoughts and prayers appreciated tomorrow as we wind through the mountains to Xela: our new home for the next few weeks!

on the road again...

2009-08-22T07:49:00.001-07:00

After a gorgeous day Saturday, including brunch with my dear family and then an afternoon celebrating Mandy and Craig's union, I headed out early early Sunday morning to fly back to Nicaragua. I spent almost a week there, some of it reconnecting with coworkers, and re-acclimating to the heat, the culture, and the language of Managua (Nicaraguan Spanish is *so* different than the Mexican Spanish I got used to this summer). I also spent a few nights away in a nearby cloud forest, with a day trip to the ocean; it went by all too quickly, gorgeous surroundings, fabulous conversation, great food, and incredible company. It was a sweet little getaway - time to think of nothing but exactly where I was, to disconnect from the life to which I so recently said goodbye and the life we'll pick up from in the airport on Monday.
And now, I write to you from San Salvador, en route to Guatemala with my ever-entertaining compañero Chepe (it's such fun to be traveling with him again). We got in yesterday afternoon and head out today for Guatemala City. It's been fabulous to see all of my coworkers again and everyone is so genuinely excited for the new semester to begin that preparations have been a joy. We're headed for the bus station again in a few minutes, so I should head out. Best wishes to all! I miss you Minnesotans already!

the summer in review...

2009-08-10T10:57:00.000-07:00

It appears as though my summer vacation also turned into a short hiatus from my blog. After a month and a half of not having written, I feel I should have more to report. But the last two months have been nearly entirely about focusing on people and letting myself sink into the relationships here at home that remind me who I am. When I'm out and away it's easy for me to focus mostly on who I could be, what my potential is, what the need is and how I might be able to shape my life accordingly.

Home is about who I am, right now. Home offers roots, friends offer space to be ridiculous and be appreciated for it, family offers endless support and insight that portrays a love I can't fully understand. I think that at times I'm tempted to see one place as more valuable than the other, or as more necessary at specific periods of time. It's an obvious realization, but it's clearer after some slower time here that they're immensely different, but of equal value.

After my last blog post I finished up the book "The Country Under My Skin" by Giaconda Belli (very worth reading) and she writes about moving to the United States with her partner after a life of service and loving dedication to being Nicaraguan. She writes more beautifully than I ever could about some of the same feelings I have attempted to express in recent posts. So, I'll paste a quote below and put up a couple of pictures from the summer. And I'll be writing with much more frequency again, so check back in soon.

"I was often tormented by the fear that I would become soft and compliant, assume the attitude that people term ‘realistic’, hang up my gloves and resign myself to the idea that we lost the battle or, in the best of all worlds, that the fight to achieve new utopias would now fall to other people. But reality taught me otherwise. Life has shown me that not every commitment requires payment in blood, or the heroism of dying in the line of fire. There is a heroism inherent to peace and stability, an accessible, everyday heroism that may not challenge us with the threat of death, but which challenges us to squeeze every last possibility out of life, and to live not one but several lives all at the same time. To accept oneself as a multiple being in time and space is part of modern life..."
- Giaconda Belli

quiet comfort...

2009-06-29T08:39:00.000-07:00

I can't get over how quiet it is here. I sit in my room in the house I grew up in and all of life sounds subdued. It's a chilly morning and I can hear birds out my window, but they're chirping softly, in the distance. In my room in Managua birds woke me up most mornings (if not the heat) and did so with volume and abrasiveness and persistence that seemed fitting to the intensity of that place. Their calls and cries shared the soundtrack with the pleas of street vendors and aggressive drivers, horn happy and sin muffler.

Here in my other reality - my first reality - the neighbors are exchanging niceties, cars hum by, a lawn mower purrs down the block: consistent, gentle, throwing that quintessentially small town, fresh-cut-grass-smell into the air. For a few days, I felt somewhat out of place here, and I suppose that won't go away entirely. But I don't know that I'll ever feel totally out of place here, this is where I grew up, this town is in me. As much as I marvel at the contrast between life here in small town Minnesota and life in Managua, it's frighteningly easy for me to start thinking that this, this quiet, comfortable way of existing is normal. I struggle with the temptation of that comfort, it's alluring in many ways.

I'm beyond blessed to have a few months here at home before I head back down to Central America for another year of work with the same program. I'm very much looking forward to the opportunity to work with my team again and be part of a process that I so strongly believe in. But in the meantime, I've come home to a new nephew, to loads more family that I adore and to friends that squeeze every possible drop of meaning and humor out of any situation, and that constantly teach me how to grow. I'm home and I'm happy, not comfortable but cognizant of all of my blessings.

new light...

2009-06-25T08:54:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite phrases in Spanish is 'dar a luz' which is used to talk about women giving birth. However, literally it translates to 'to give light' or 'to bring the light'. This week, the Menning family was blessed with new light!

Anyone who has talked to me at length in the last 9 months has likely heard about how excited I have been to have a niece or nephew. Pues, por fin soy tia! I arrived home just in time; Monday night at the airport I talked to my brother as Bri was about to go into labor. Best homecoming gift ever! On Tuesday, I got to meet little Noah Elloyd and, as a proud aunt, thought I should share a few pictures here as well.

where the streets have no name...

2009-06-07T13:09:00.000-07:00

I spent a better part of last weekend at my coworker's house as a little getaway. Her family is endearing, the house is beautiful and I'm always grateful for an invitation to enjoy their company. On Saturday, a friend called to see if I'd like to go out for drinks and said they'd swing by to pick me up. I stuck my head into my coworker's room to ask for her address and she chuckled and said "give me the phone, I'll explain how to get here". How silly of me, I forget sometimes that here in Managua an address and the directions of how to get somewhere are the same thing.

You see, here in Managua streets don't have names. Buildings aren't generally numbered either. So how do you find a place without street names? Easy enough for locals, you pick a big landmark and work your way toward your destination from there. For example, to grab a cab to the Theatre Justo Rufino Gray you'd have to tell them: "from the Montoya statue, 3 blocks down, 20 meters toward the lake". It seemed to me, from the beginning like some sort of cruel joke - 'down', 'toward the lake'? But really, it's just a system one must learn. Down means west, because the sun goes down in the west. Logically following that, 'up' means east, where the sun rises. The lake is situated to the north of the city so 'al lago' means north and ...well, south never got a code word I guess, you just say 'al sur/to the south'.

It baffles me that this system works...mostly when I get addresses that start with "donde fue el Hotel..." -- 'where the Hotel...used to be'. What if you don't know where the hotel used to be? Or when they finish with "and 20 'varas' up", what the heck is a 'vara'?! (I just looked it up for this post, it's apparently an ancient Spanish unit of measurement measuring approx .875 meters...that will help me when I can finally remember how many feet are in a meter.)

I guess the system all started after the earthquake in '72. Apart from killing nearly 20,000 people, it also demolished buildings and seriously altered the grid patterned streets of this capital city. People figured it out, they made up a new system...one that works well enough that they apparently still don't feel the need to create a new one, or put up street name signs any time soon. And while I miss street names and house numbers, this is certainly an exercise in my sense of direction.

*photos taken and kindly shared by Jenny Ajl

a little shock...

2009-05-23T20:02:00.000-07:00

It’s raining here again. And we’ve been waiting for it. After months of oppressive heat in a dusty, dry Managua, I was anxious for water, for green, for anything that might cool it down a little. And last night, it poured. Infrastructure is lacking here and roads easily flood with a torrential downpour like we had, so plans to go out with friends were quickly canceled and I was trapped in the house.

Thunder and lightning accompany any good storm and rolling, rumbling thunder can actually seem comforting to me, even alone in this big house. I like the reminder that things aren’t always quiet and peaceful, that there’s beauty and variation in tumult. That this energy and falling water ushers us into a different part of the year, a part full of growth. And in the midst of this reflection (which was likely partially to keep me from feeling as alone as I was) there was an instant of light - everything illuminated – followed rapidly by a crack of thunder that felt like it was all encompassing, felt like it split through space and was somehow inside of me and I jumped and gasped… and then took a few deep breaths and smiled at myself.

It was kind of funny. I’m sitting there, listening to thunder, contemplating thunder, waiting for more thunder, and when there’s a crack I still gasped, I was still frightened by it. It’s instinctual, I suppose, because it didn’t actually scare me. But it threw me off for a second and certainly got my blood flowing.

As I was talking about last night’s storm with the cook this morning, I realized that my moment of thunder shock bears striking resemblances to my preconceptions of my upcoming return to the US and my anticipated culture shock. I’ve been thinking lots this week about the joys that await me in Minnesota this summer, but also about the transition time, the anger and confusion about all the ‘extra’ at home, and the fact that Managua’s reality and Northfield’s reality exist simultaneously. To imagine these two different worlds makes sense to me. They make sense when they are separate and disconnected, they make sense when I keep them detached from each other…but in that instant of light, that week where I’ve been in both places and they’re both still so real to me - the contrast between the two is jarring. Questions split through theoretical space and somehow become a constant part of me, relentless, driving, without answers. As much as I’ve been contemplating it and waiting for the tumult, it’s still frightening.

It’s instinctual, I suppose. A raging thunderstorm or long-awaited flight home. As much as we are wired to jump when we hear loud noises I believe we’re designed to gasp in the face of such belligerent disparity. A little shock gets the blood flowing.

a tiny fraction...

2009-05-08T14:03:00.001-07:00

The students left this morning. I was utterly exhausted after 4 nights of little to no sleep and the emotional wear and tear of reliving my last days in Cuernavaca and then saying goodbye to them all. I slept for much of the day, and this afternoon my heart seems to be waffling between sadness, numbness and excitement for them all to get home and realize how much they saw here.

As I was preparing for our last meeting together a few days ago at the lake, I found this prayer written by Oscar Romero. I decided not to read it to the whole group - maybe taken out of context it could sound cheesy or idyllically altruistic - but it keeps coming to mind; knowing who Oscar Romero is, and having lived the last four months together it seems more than appropriate. This semester was hopefully just a tiny fraction of the learning that will continue to expand and blossom as students resettle into North American life. And to any of you students who are home, in your carpeted houses, surrounded by family or lovers or friends, know that I'm in the back den with all of you on my mind.

A Prayer of Hope

It helps now and then, to step back and take the long view. The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work. Nothing we do is complete which is another way of saying that the kingdom always lies beyond us. No statement says all that could be said. No prayer fully expresses our faith. No confession brings perfection, no pastoral visit brings wholeness, no program accomplishes the Church's mission. No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about. We plant seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted knowing that they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further developments. We provide yeast that produces effects far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something and to do it very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for God's grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.

We are the workers, not the master builders, ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own.

Amen.

students' last few weeks...

2009-05-02T08:33:00.000-07:00

It has been far to long since I've posted and I apologize for letting time slip. I forget sometimes that people are actually checking, but a dear friend wrote this morning, encouraging me to write something - so here I am!

We returned from the countryside and headed into our last few weeks of programming with the semester students. As much as people have talked about being homesick and being excited to be home throughout the semester, the end approaches and the fact that being home means they will no longer be here becomes much more of a reality. It's been fun to watch students, with that realization, really take advantage of time with their host families and see much more of the country.

This last week has been a bit strange - what with the flu scare and all. It seems both scary and maddening to me to watch the news, not being sure how much is just alarmist media and yet being very concerned for loved ones in Mexico. It has also given me new perspective on living in a 3rd world country in the midst of something like this. Were I at home, I don't know that I'd worry, I have faith that if I got sick, they could treat me and I'd recover. But Nicaraguan hospitals are painfully lacking in resources; this just isn't a good place to get sick.

Last week also included incredibly sad news - a friend in Mexico was murdered. Reasons for the murder are unclear and I only hope that, among the current chaos there, space is made for people to grieve this enormous loss. Here in Managua, I'm taking the space I need and am ever impressed with all of the ways that my work team here supports me emotionally. For now, I'm taking time to rest, to be in touch with people at home and in Mexico and...from now on, to blog a little more often :) As always, thanks so much for checking in.

moments of wonder...

2009-04-22T09:14:00.000-07:00

Last week I was lucky enough to return to a rural community in northern Nicaragua for the students' last "rural homestay experience". It was my third time back and it's one of my favorite places to visit. Not only is the climate more agreeable (much cooler than Managua), but the food is fabulous, we sleep 12 hours a night while we're there (one advantage to no electricity) and the people are incredible.

One of the older women in the community always tells her life story to our groups, a recent history of the community. As a child she essentially worked as a slave on the 'finca' (a plantation-like system); as a grown woman she saw revolution change their reality: they were given land, she was taught to read as part of a national literacy campaign, and they became producers in their own right, not just workers. And then, as she tells it, less than ten years later the 'spring' of their existence came to an end as the Contra war began in Nicaragua. Living in the north of the country, and being a rural community they were repeatedly attacked by the contras (who were largely financed by the US through the CIA) and burned to the ground, despite the fact that they had no desire to be a part of this battle.

And as I think about their experience during the contra war, and for that matter, before and after it - everything looks different. The mountains are gorgeous and peaceful at first glance, but as I climbed to the top of a lookout to take in a sunset with students, I couldn't stop imaging people running through them with guns, houses burning along the path we took, people hiding in the crevices carved out long ago by water and nature and God. The man walking with us must have been an adolescent in those years when he was fleeing the US funded troops that came to scorch their earth...and now he's leading us up the mountain to share with us one of their greatest beauties.

And there are moments when I wonder if travel is selfish, moments when I wonder if education is really enough to change things. And then there are moments when all I can do is revel in the generosity and tenacity and beauty of these communities. Moments when the questions quiet, when I feel broken open and stretched and healed all at once. And it's so much more than enough in those moments.

something about Mexico...

2009-04-13T06:01:00.000-07:00

I'm back in Managua after an incredible week in Mexico. I ended up staying in Cuernavaca for the whole week, but I got to relax, to dance, to enjoy some really good Mexican food and most importantly, to catch up with many old friends. Whenever I get to return, and perhaps more so this time because it had been longer, it feels like a celebration. People weren't really sure what to make of my 'new accent' (central american influence, but unidentifiable at this point, i guess) but were encouraging about where I'm at and remeniscent of my time there.

It's been five years since I first went to Mexico, and while I've now spent various months living in four other countries in Latin America (that I have also loved) there is something about Mexico that wins me over. I adore that country; it was fabulous to be back.

That being said, the trip also gave me really wonderful perspective. When I get to tell people about my current job and talk about the things that we're learning/seeing/doing here, it re-energizes me and reminds me how much I love my current situation.

semana santa...

2009-04-04T23:23:00.001-07:00

It's 12:30 am and my taxi to the airport will arrive in approximately 4 hours, but I can't sleep. Latin America celebrates Easter like it's Christmas and nearly everyone gets at least a week of vacation (if not two) - people flock to the nearest body of water in most cases. I, however, am headed to Morelos, Mexico. It's been over a year since I've visited and I'm so looking forward to seeing friends, former coworkers, past students and hopefully making a short trip to Puebla.

Needless to say, I'm excited. I love the pre-vacation anticipation! I hope you all have a lovely week and (for those of you in the northern-midwest) that with Easter, the cold slips away and lets spring back in. Feliz Semana Santa!

far away...

2009-04-01T16:42:00.000-07:00

I've heard through various sources that it snowed at home last night - yuck. Life here is sort of on the other end of the spectrum, it was 96 here today and uncomfortably humid. In the midst of the morning heat, I checked my email and saw a message from Tory updating me on Katherine Olson's trial. Her killer was sentenced to life in prison with no parole today. As I read through the Star Tribune article, I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't stop aching for her family, can't imagine what they're feeling. From all I have seen they have moved through this situation with faith and grace and extreme love for their gorgeous, curly headed daughter. It's strange to be in such a different place when things like this happen; Katherine's name doesn't mean anything to people here. Which is probably why my emotions about it get bottled and then more drastically released.

It snowed at home last night and I woke up sweating today; I can feel so far away, so disconnected. I've let myself fall out of touch with many lately, and I apologize for doing so. A phone call with my parents last night and the email from Tory today remind me how good it feels to reconnect with home. I'm more conscious today that, to a certain extent, I can be in control of how 'far away' I feel. And I'd like to choose to be closer - a new goal, of sorts. I am so grateful for the people who remind me how life-giving home can be.

marañones...

2009-03-23T09:35:00.000-07:00

I was going through pictures and found this snapshot of a cashew tree. I took it in El Salvador during a rural stay with the intention of posting it, but never got around to it. Perhaps you're already well-acquainted with the cashew tree - but I was shocked to see that this is how marañones (cashews) grow!

The red part is a fruit that can be used to make juice, wine or jelly. The nut that we buy at home is encased in a thick shell (seen at the bottom, the gray part). I was at the point of biting into it to see if I could break it open (since my nails weren't working) and my coworker enlightened me that the shell contains the same skin irritant as poison ivy. Crisis averted! Thought I'd share in case you ever find a cashew fruit in your hand and you consider biting into it.

long awaited victory!

2009-03-16T23:14:00.000-07:00

It's still somewhat unbelievable to me, but the FMLN won! (Makes me smile just to type that.)

Sunday evening was nerve racking and intense and glorious as we watched results roll in from the elections. We happened upon a political rally of sorts, which turned into a celebration with the announcement of the victory. Fireworks and caravans through the streets - people couldn't contain their joy.

And what a long-awaited joy for so many. Our driver today was telling me that this is the first time in his life (he's in his mid 60's) that the presidential candidate he voted for has won. His vote, along with that of many others, finally meant something, validating people who felt unheard even after fighting a 12 year war. I'm so happy for those who have waited and am grateful for the absence of blatant, widespread fraud. And I'll admit, I'm hopeful (and optimistic) that the space created for change will be well utilized.

three days...

2009-03-13T15:53:00.000-07:00

Three days until the presidential elections here and although the campaigns have to officially 'close' four days before elections - the intensity in the atmosphere hasn't dropped at all. I didn't get to be home during the final days of the McCain/Obama race - so it's difficult to compare - but there are certainly differences that are bizarre and maddening.

Before I delve into my thoughts - a bit of context: There are currently two parties in the race (there were more, but they were bought out or dropped out). The right-wing, conservative party is called Arena and the left party was originally created out of the guerrilla movement from the war and is called the FMLN. Arena has been in power for more than 20 years and has historically been very buddy-buddy with the United States.

This time around, the FMLN chose a candidate from outside of the party, viewed as more of an independent, and has done well. This time around the FMLN had an enourmous lead (17.6%) coming into these last pre-election months. But regardless of the fact that El Salvador is a democracy, elections seem to be lacking a lot in order to be 'free and fair'.

It seems each day of the last two weeks I've heard or seen an Arena tactic that has made my stomach turn - the worst of these involving factory/big business owners. The press found out a few weeks back that employees of large factories and numerous international companies were told that the Monday after elections, they would have to show a picture of their ballot (with a vote for Arena), taken with their cell phone, to their employer or they would be fired.

In the mayoral elections in January, Arena knowingly bussed in people from Guatemala and Nicaragua to vote for their parties and gave them official IDs to do so. Apparently this is something that's been happening for years, but since the party in power is the one commiting the crime, there have been no repercussions, or ways to prevent it from happening in the future.

And perhaps the most upsetting, since I'm a gringa, is seeing the claims made on the front pages of the newspapers (almost entirely owned by Arena) stating: 'Untied States fears connection with Chavez' or 'United States Congress - TPS in danger with FMLN'. Headlines based on the statement a specific right leaning organization or a specific congress person at home - not the entirety of the United States. But these statements envoke fear, bring to mind uncertainty and are thus effective.

Any campaign gets dirty, but let these people have their vote without threatening their job or robbing them of its value by executing fraud in such a huge, blatantly disrespectful way. And if you're not willing to do so, then I don't think you should necessarily be labeled a democracy or use the party slogan of "Arena - I vote for my liberty".

I watched rioting in Managua after an electoral process filled with alleged fraud. The question here isn't even whether or not fraud will happen, it's 'How much?' and "Will it be enough to win?" I also watched the United States "freeze" it's financial aid to Nicaragua "due" to the fraud and lack of transparency. Will we have the integrity to do the same if the party commiting fraud is one we have historically supported rather than a system that identifies itself as 'socialist'? And why the double standard?

Three days until the elections and we're hoping that whatever the outcome, people's votes count.

Un pacto de amor...

2009-03-05T15:29:00.000-08:00

Debemos hacer algo en esta tierra
Porque en este planeta nos parieron
Y hay que arreglar las cosas de los hombres
Porque no somos pajaros ni perros

We should do something on this earth
Because we were delivered to this planet
And we must set right the things of men
Because we are neither birds nor dogs.

Y bien, si cuando ataco lo que odio
O cuando canto a todos los que quiero
La poesia quiere abandonar
Las esperanzas de mi manifesto,
Yo sigo con las tablas de mi ley
Acumulando estrellas y armamentos

And so, if when I attack what I hate,
Or when I sing to those I love,
Poetry wants to abandon
The hopes of my manifesto,

I’ll follow the letter of my law

Accumulating stars and armaments

Y en el Duro deber americano
No me importa una rosa mas o menos;
Tengo un pacto de amor con la hermosura
Tengo un pacto de sangre con mi pueblo.

And in my steadfast duty to america
One more or one less rose does not matter;
I have a pact of love with beauty
I have a pact of blood with my people.

- Pablo Neruda, No Me Lo Pides/Do Not Ask Me

unholy wedlock...

2009-03-03T09:52:00.000-08:00

"These countries are now united in unholy wedlock and divorce isn't possible...this situation isn't going away." - Dean Brackley, Professor at la UCA

The longer I'm here the more I learn about all of the ways that my home is tied to these countries I visit, how connected all of the americas really are. This is especially evident here in El Salvador, not just in US foreign policy, or the fact that I use United States dollars to pay for my Cinnabon.

My passion for Latin America was born out of immigration and the the necessity for it and the jarring dichotomy of success and growth along with the great tradgedy of it on both personal and systemic levels. Somewhere between 500 and 700 El Salvadorans immigrate to the states every day. Another 143 are caught crossing the southern US border. Every day. The gap between the cost of living here and the minimum wage is sickening and families in El Salvador that don't depend on a relative in the states are rare.

How did we get here? This is a tiny country that the United States spent over 10 years investing 1.5 million dollars a day into during the war. Regarless of how, it seems clear to me that we're painfully connected at this point.

a few highlights...

2009-02-23T07:52:00.000-08:00

We spent our last week in Guatemala in a very rural area (which you've now seen footage of if you watched 'Voice of a Mountain') at 'the mountain school'. The pace is much more laid back but still I'm not sure how to write about the week without being extraordinarily wordy, so I'll just mention a few highlights:

- Translating a few presentations and getting good feedback
- A cooking class to learn to make pupusas
- Hiking to a nearby waterfall (not really nearby, the hike was intense, but it was worth the walk)
- Wafer Cookies
- Playing teachers vs. students soccer the last day
- My host-siblings (2, 3, 5 and 10) and the chaos that ensues when you eat at a table with kids that age (bless your soul mom).

It was a lovely week really, but I was ready to head into Xela, spend a day in Antigua and then cross the border into El Salvador!

voice of a mountain...

2009-02-17T07:01:00.000-08:00

As we drove onto the grounds of the coffee cooperative, the entrance sign said: "together we'll create a true democracy." I was glad to be back and excited for the students to get to hear about this community of Santa Anita. In the 24 hours that we were there we kept busy: a hike down a ravine to a waterfall (and back up it), a talk with a community member about the history and their current business of producing and selling fair trade, organic coffee, a check-in with the students, and meeting with a community member that has lived in the states and worked as a community organizer of immigrants. That was all the first day!

We woke up on Sunday morning and the only thing scheduled was a documentary called "Voice of a Mountain". It was created by a couple of young foreigners and honestly I wasn't sure how much to expect. But it's beautifully filmed and it tells a big part of Guatemala's story in such a succinct, powerful way. I suppose, for me, it was also moving to see a voice given to these powerful people that we've met and these places that we've seen.

I know your are all busy - but the documentary is only 80 minutes long and it does an exponentially better job of explaining Guatemala than I possibly could. Guatemala may not be your passion, but this history is so recent and is so pertinent for us as we think about international policy and look at our role in future post-war/conflict countries. And you'll get to see a little bit of the countryside where I've been hanging out while I've been without communication.
The website for the documentary is: www.voiceofamountain.com. It's worth your time! :)

estas son las mananitas...

2009-02-14T08:00:00.000-08:00

Well, our time in Xela has finished up and we head to the country in an hour or so. I don't have much time to write, but wanted to let people know I won't have phone or internet this coming week. I'll admit, I was feeling down that I wouldn't get to talk to loved ones on my birthday, but yesterday I was blown away by the thoughtfulness of my coworkers, fellow students and my host family.

Both in the morning at school, and at home in the afternoon I was surprised with cakes, song, and (as is tradition here) getting my face shoved in the cake (my host mom would want you to know she didn't push me in, she was actually trying to protect me...however the pictures are rather incriminating). It really was lovely of them and although these four weeks in Xela have included some lonely days, it'll be hard to say goodbye to many tomorrow.

I'll be back in week!

hidden in plain sight...

2009-02-12T21:44:00.000-08:00

This afternoon the students had the option to view a documentary on the 'School of the Americas'. I've known about the school and its involvement in foreign policy in Latin America for quite some time now, but it does not cease to enrage me. There is a clip of Bush senior fielding questions about the Jesuit priests that were murdered in El Salvador (I wrote about it in Oct last year: Six of Many), and after having been there, and felt the pain that still surrounds the situation, to see his total defiance, his utter lack of respect and reality...I wanted to scream. And instead, I sat and cried. I guess in some ways I'm actually glad that it hasn't stopped making me cry.

I won't rant more about the topic here, it's huge and complex and the documentary does a much better job than I would/could. If you're interested look it up, it's easy to find a player for it online, it's called: Hidden in Plain Sight.

And if you do take the time to watch it, or have already seen it, I'd love to hear your thoughts/feedback/etc...

a civilian in 'la violencia'...

2009-02-10T20:13:00.000-08:00

"At five years old I didn't understand well what was happening. But I had the sensation that something bad was going on and as I grew I realized who was paying the price of the war."

The school that the students attend preaches a pretty strong liberal agenda. However, as a program we attempt to give them exposure to as many different perspectives as possible. Earlier this semester they met with a colonel from the Guatmalan army and today they met with a man who gave his perspective as a civilian during the war.

I sat there and listened to his testimony, which begins with him talking about losing his uncle at age 5 and continues with stories of death and absurd violence and loss - typical, i suppose, of someone who grew up in the midst of a 36 year 'civil war'. I put 'civil war' in quotations because while that's the way that texts refer to it, he would say that when you speak with people who were not directly involved with either side they will simply refer to the years of the war as 'la violencia'.

"What is often forgotten is that the civilians, who did not decide to start the war, paid the price for it and still have not reaped the benefits of it."

During the time of violence here in Guatemala there were approximately 45,000 members of the military, 5,000 members of the guerrilla and some 200,000 civilians affected (affected = killed, tortured, disappeared). Those numbers are ridiculous. He spoke of his life reality with calm and a level of emotional health and dare I say even empathy for his audience (recognizing the weight of the subject matter and the way it affects people who haven't yet heard such a testimony) that floored me. He is married and spoke of the importance and necessity to talk through the things both he and his wife have lived. But he asked us, "what happens to the thousands and thousands of Guatemalans that haven't been able to talk through or manage such emotions?"

What does a society look like post conflict? Not just whether or not they have been officially secured as a 'democracy' or whether or not their economy is improving, but emotionally/psychologically, what does conflict do to individuals and families and communities. And is it really worth it? And are we actually weighing all of these factors when we decide to 'assist' other countries in their conflicts.

"Un conflicto no es tan simple como parece...No puedo facilmente aplaudir a los 'heroes' de la guerra. Perdon, no puedo."

reminiscent of home...

2009-02-08T18:42:00.000-08:00

It's Sunday night and I'm back from a lovely weekend at Lake Atitlan. I've heard incredible things about this lake for years, and in some ways I feel like my trip didn't really do it justice. Dont' get me wrong, the trip was exactly what I needed, being incredibly restful, but if you want to know much about the lake - I couldn't tell you.

Joe and Eliett ended up heading toward the capital and since I was determined to spend this 'free weekend' at the lake I made plans to travel there with a friend I met here in Xela. I wasn't feeling all that well when I left, but the trip there actually wasn't as bad as expected (I ended up sleeping for much of it - shocking, no?) Still, I was exhausted upon arrival and pretty much went straight to bed. Saturday I slept in, still not feeling 100% but the lake is significantly warmer than Xela, so we spent the afternoon at the beach. The day was lazy and it was wonderful to just sit by the water, eat, rest more, eat, and then head out for an evening of pupusas and gallo.

We started the trip back today relatively early, and I said goodbye to Diego (as he headed to the capital to fly home tomorrow). Goodbyes seem to be a constant at this stage in my life - and as much as I hate that, on days like today - I'm ever amazed by the people I meet coincidentally and how much I end up finding out about myself and them through converstaion. Diego proved to be an excellent travel partner and was more anti-USA than anyone I've met in a while; which led to some interesting debates. I found myself talking up Minnesota often...that land of glory...can you tell I miss home? I'm fairly certain the states is still last on his list of places to visit, so maybe I'm not the best debater. However, it did bring to mind much that I love about home, which seems only natural as I reminisced on the rocky edge of a lake.

This evening I spent some quality time with the family. I'm not sure I've talked about my host family here - but my host-dad is one of the most energetic, loud, caring men I've met and he loves it when everyone's home. We were all back tonight (the Guatemalan college girls who board here usually go to their hometowns for the weekend) and the kitchen was chaotic and brutal (in the best 'family' sense of the word) and loud and felt much like home.

(photo - my host dad was teasing one of the girls about wearing her hood and convinced everyone to join in. the boy is my host-brother, the girls are all fellow boarders...although they seem to have been living here quite a while, it feels like extended family.)

Sometimes, even when I'm far from home, it ceases to feel that way - the lake, long conversations with friends, a big family dinner -the weekend just felt much like home in enough ways that I'm far less homesick than I was a week ago. And all of the sudden, it feels as though the tempo has picked up - one week left in Xela.

gastrointestinal strife....

2009-02-06T11:37:00.000-08:00

I'm headed to Lake Atitlan after a night of 'gastrointestinal strife' (as it's referred to in my manual). I watch the students get sick all the time but had been fortunate enough to avoid stomach issues here until yesterday. So much for my stomach of steel. Still, I'm determined to use this 'free weekend' to see the lake - so I drank a little of the concoctions/home remedies/gatorade (check out my nightstand, my host mom was so worried) and I am feeling significantly better. Although if you've ever experienced a chicken bus in Guate, you know I've got a trecherous afternoon ahead of me. Ha! I'll let you know how it went upon return.

a few weeks in...

2009-02-04T19:27:00.000-08:00

Wednesday evening and I just got off the phone with my mom. It was wonderful to talk with her - I haven't been taking enough time to keep in touch/reflect/write these past few weeks. The stuff we see and hear here is heavy, and I know better than to go long without some verbal processing and refueling with friends and family...still, I get busy, or tired, or stressed about the subjunctive (the most unfortunate verb tense) and forget what I know. I'm fortunate enough to have friends like Joe and Ruth who are incredibly caring and a support system at home that is ever forgiving of my lapses in communication.

It feels like a lot has happened since I last wrote; I suppose it has. We finished up orientation and have been taking Spanish classes and living with our host families for a week and a half now. I'm living with a family of five that also rents rooms to five additional female students. I don't see them much since I'm not home all that often, but they all eat meals together so when I am here, it's really wonderful to be at a big family table again. The girls all talk to each other ridiculously quickly and I only catch a fraction of what's going on, but it's good for my Spanish and they laugh a lot, which is just good for me. Spanish class itself has been more frustrating than I expected, but I do love this language and it's fun to get some of the grammar rules straight up instead of trying to detect patterns by listening to people.

We've also already gotten to meet with such amazing people: a military general, an ex-guerrilla, business men, professors, and the widow's cooperative in Chichicastenango (weaving photo). I'm continually impressed by the power in these peoples' stories and the ways that hearing them can change a person. We had our first group session last Friday and it was unbelievable to me how encouraging it was to just listen to the students reflect on what two weeks of being in the country has done to their perspectives. Theirs and mine - it's refreshing to see that although it's my second time through, this information doesn't cease to be horrifying and fascinating and of the utmost importance to me.

begin again...

2009-01-19T18:31:00.000-08:00

I'm back in Guatemala, back in the guest house where I met our fall semester students, here to meet our spring semester students. They arrived today. The dining room buzzed with awkward 'getting to know you' conversations. And as wonderful as they may be, there's probably just no way to get through these first few days without some pretty uncomfortable moments. That being said – they seem like decent kids, thus far.

It's good to be here, but if I'm honest with myself it's been a more difficult transition than I expected. I laid awake last night thinking through future plans and the coming semester and the past few years and I just felt unsettled. I'm not sure why exactly. Many people in my life have taken paths that can seem more 'logical' or more 'settled' than mine - and don't get me wrong, I love my life here - but occasionally, aspects of their paths can seem appealing.

I have fabulous coworkers and talked through it with Joe this morning. I feel more at peace with it all now as I write this, but I am certainly missing home and that centered feeling I'm blessed with when I'm surrounded by family. I'll write again soon, hopefully with something slightly less introspective once we get moving - Guatemala City is not one of my favorite places. By Wednesday afternoon we'll be back in Xela.

quick stop in Nica...

2009-01-10T13:52:00.000-08:00

I feel like I just got back, and in a few days I'm headed out again.

Christmas break went quickly and was, as expected, wonderful time with family and friends. I had a harder time adjusting to a few aspects of my life in the US, but processed it (with the help of my mother), accepted it, and feel like I squeezed a lot out of a couple of weeks. Definite highlights being: a jigsaw puzzle afternoon with the family, a lazy day with my brother Seth, various thrifting trips with Tory, a night at the Herkimer with my girls and a kickin' New Year celebration with friends.

And as much as I loved being home, coming back here felt right. This doesn't feel like home by any means; and after seeing Joe and Eliett (who kindly picked me up from the airport) I could say that I had caught up with all of my close friends here in Managua. But I realized, even more deeply while being home, that I really do love what I'm doing.

I worked with a week long trip this last week - took another trip to the country side - and in a few days will head toward Guatemala to greet our next group of semester students. Hard to believe they'll be here so soon. I'm starting to miss last semester students more, the longer they're gone; but I am excited to meet the next group.

(Thanks for continuing to read! Oh - almost forgot - various people had told me they weren't able to post comments. I changed the settings, and anyone should be able to comment now - just make sure you sign your post so that I know who you are!)

more than once...

2008-12-28T14:40:00.000-08:00

- from visit to Walker Scultpure Garden, December 27th, 2008

airport greetings

2008-12-18T07:50:00.000-08:00

i'm in the managua airport waiting to fly home!

the air conditioning is on too high and i'm chilly. i think my system is in for a shock :) i might not write much during these next few weeks but wanted to say thank you to those of you who continue to read this and to all who send me your care in all of the incredible ways that you do. i am beyond blessed.

arms grown strong...

2008-12-14T18:22:00.000-08:00

The last of the students left today and I slept for three hours this afternoon. I've been utterly exhausted these last few days. The students presented their finals on Wednesday, we went to la Laguna de Apoyo for a day long retreat on Thursday (see pics) and then Friday did errands and evals and went out dancing. Our first airport run was at 5:00 am, so none of us slept much - if any - and naturally, emotions ran high.

It was bizarre to watch them all go, bizarre to remember my departure from Mexico four years ago. I left kicking and screaming then, cried for days and I remember being terrified of the transition. And through all of the goodbyes the last few days I didn't cry, not even once. I suppose this can be attributed to me getting older and having been through a few more transitions, but it still seemed odd to me. Maybe I just felt like I had to be strong for them? Although there were times when tears would have seemed more appropriate; I don't know.

The closest I came to tears was during one of our reflection sessions, when one of the girls talked about how she feels that she has fallen in love with Central America. When she said it I could see in her, through her tears, that she really did feel heartbroken to leave. I remember that feeling; I think she'll be back. I'm excited to see what they do - that intensity of sadness and purpose usually turns into some kind of action.

This afternoon I read an email from my dad and it wasn't sad, but I just broke down in tears. I'm ecstatic to go home in a few days and I adore this job, but I really will miss them.

Y si alguno de ustedes esta leyendo esto: Espero que hayan llegado bien a sus casas, que esten descansando (espiritualmente y fisicamente) con familia o amigos o quien sea que te llene. Me impresionaron un monton y les voy a extranar muchsisismo.

in those days,
we finally chose
to walk like giants
& hold the world
in arms grown strong with love
& there may be many things we forget
in the days to come,
but this will not be one of them.

la purisima!

2008-12-07T21:30:00.000-08:00

I learned today, this 7th of December, that the virgin Mary was immaculately conceived on this very day (however many years ago that would have happened). And you better believe that in the Catholic Church this is reason enough to celebrate, or at least go to mass. My coworker was explaining that in the states today is known as one of the days of 'Obligation' or something similar (no offense to Catholics if I'm mistaken; I really am just now learning about all of this).

However, in Nicaragua it's one of the largest holidays of the year and is celebrated with fireworks and a Halloween-esque tradition in which people set up altars to the virgin in their home and then give out food or candy to people who enter and sing a song of praise to 'la purisima' (the incredibly pure one: Mary).

My friend Eliett invited me to her home and it really was a lovely evening. We were walking around the neighborhood, waiting in lines to sing at different altars (me mostly pretending to know the words...I don't think I was fooling people) and the streets felt electric in the best way possible. Imagine Halloween, without the scary stuff and for everyone, not just kids and creepy teenagers.

One of Eliett's relatives said "Today no one is hungry, even those who don't have anything". Anyone is welcome to come sing and receive the food that's given out. Do I personally believe that Mary was immaculately conceived on December 7th? Not really, but I do now love this holiday. I loved the way it's celebrated, the fact that people here go all out for this kind of stuff (you wouldn't believe the fireworks in the last 24 hours) and the belief it encourages in the idea that the best way to celebrate is by singing and giving, to whomever happens to show up.

"Que causa tanta alegria?!"
"La concepcion de Maria!"

- refrain shouted through the streets

trash...

2008-12-03T15:33:00.000-08:00

We visited the city dump today. And I realized, I don't think about trash as much as I should. A few years ago, when I visited Cuernavaca, they had run out of places to take the trash and so people were just piling it in the streets. Two weeks without the trucks that cart the waste away and the city almost couldn't function. That was one of the first times the reality of trash really hit me in the face, today was another.

And today it wasn't just about trash, it was about the trash people and the boy on the back of the bus.

Here, there are so few resources that some 160 families have made their homes inside the dump. They live on top of the smoking piles of waste and spend their days sifting through garbage for bottles, scrap metal, plastic bags, cans, anything they can sell to the intermediaries. Their children work with them; when they're young (3-4) they may sit watch over things collected, later on they begin sorting or searching. The woman we spoke with guessed that they make between 2 and 4 dollars a day and while they don't have to pay rent or transportation, many of these families only eat once a day.

It's an entire community, there on top of the trash; they have schools and food vendors that come in to sell to the collectors, and a small clinic that an NGO set up. And yet, many times of the year the flooding is bad enough that they can't leave the dump, there's just no way out. In the dry season they deal with fumes and smoke and fire that often engulfs much of the landfill.

And it really did hit me today, just smacked me upside the head. We drove around and saw it all through the windows of our air conditioned Toyota Cruzer and I felt myself detaching from the emotional windstorm inside. A long list of questions formed in my head (how did this start? what is the government doing about it? do most people here in the city know? what's the alternative? if they were offered one would they take it? etc.). I do this, I've realized, when I'm not sure how to process all of the grief and disbelief that gurgles in such situations; I turn to questions.

But the whole way through there was this little boy on the back of our bus. As soon as we entered the dump he ran after us and hopped on the back ladder, holding on to our bus with one hand and to his jar of glue with the other. At one point we tried to ditch him and he ran after us for blocks, tenacious as fuck (symbolism I wanted to ignore). He was inches from me; and suddenly my questions seemed grossly inadequate.

We stepped off the bus (I, a tad unwillingly, I'll admit) and the ugly got uglier. Garbage under our feet, smells I care not to remember, smoke burning our eyes and the little boy walks up and grabs me, continues asking for money. I felt so white, so privileged, so guilty, just standing there asking our guide questions. And then we got back onto the bus. And drove away.

And my questions surged again. Of course they are grossly inadequate but without them I'm not sure what to do. I won't stop asking them; at this point, I don't think I could. These people deserve answers or at least attempts at answers. Today it feels like attempts at questions are all I've got to offer. Hopefully attempts at answers are somewhere down the road.

the ears of my ears awake...

2008-11-26T18:22:00.000-08:00

I'll admit it; I've been a tad crabby this pre-Thanksgiving season. Yeah it's hard to be away from family, yeah we'd probably rather be eating turkey than chicken, and for those of us from the north, something about 95 degree weather doesn't really put us in the mood. But it has been good for me to see the students be as excited as they are - apparently I need to be reminded that a whole holiday based on gratitude is a pretty incredible thing.

And thus, I begin with a vastly limited version of my list: I have a job I love with continual opportunities to meet and see and learn amazing things. I have a network of family and friends that support me and send me love everyday in all sorts of ways (email, facebook, snail mail, prayers, songs, the list goes on...) and give me a foundation and center in all of my ventures.

I'm also thankful this year to be in a place that reminds me how important it is to pay attention, to work actively to raise awareness and to consciously choose to be truly awake. Attentive to the realities of people in other places, aware of the part we play in it all, awake and celebratory in the beauty with which we are still showered regardless. Whenever I let myself really revel in gratitude for a time 'i thank you God' by e.e. cummings comes to mind. he expresses, in far more beauty than i could hope to, gratitude for and the joy in awakening. happy thanksgiving.

i thank you God

i thank you God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today;
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings; and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any -- lifted from the no
of all nothing -- human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

-- e.e. cummings

escape to the country...

2008-11-25T17:48:00.000-08:00

I should have posted last week, upon returning from our rural homestay...but for some reason it has seemed especially difficult to verbalize what it was about the community that so impressed me. In other places we have heard moving presentations about the history of the community, we have seen incredible organization, we have been welcomed into homes.

But this place, this place just felt healing almost. Granted I think we all felt a little trapped in Managua, and who doesn't feel slightly liberated upon leaving the city - but even taking those things into account, this community just struck me as remarkable. I think everyone felt it; students spent late nights talking and dancing with families, afternoons out riding horses, climbing up the center of an old enormous tree, hiking through the mountains, getting to see a little of their fair trade coffee farming and learning how to 'coffee cup' (sort of like wine tasting, for coffee). We all wanted to stay longer and many vowed to return.

What made that place so alluring? I'm still not sure I know but it seems like it's got to be the combination of natural beauty and the genuineness of the people in their interactions with both us and each other. It was certainly a blessing for us to be there.

I'm lucky enough to know that I'll go back in January with a short term delegation of college students and again with the spring semester group. It's much easier to say goodbye when you know you get to return.

released!

2008-11-16T18:39:00.000-08:00

well, the streets of managua have settled down and while the 'official' results have not yet been released, the unofficial official results were thrown at the people on wednesday (or was it thursday?...sorry i can't remember) and things have calmed. other cities are still experiencing turmoil, but here in managua we were free to spend the weekend out and about.

and having been released, i very much enjoyed the weekend out of the house. we went out to dance twice and spent saturday with the students on a day trip. we visited an active volcano (we could look into it, but no molten lava...sorry...tory informs me this is not nearly as cool), went to Masaya for lunch and an artisans market (where i purchased jewelry) and then did a group check-in in Granada.
it's been a lazy sunday and i've been putting off work and packing all day. we're headed out to the country for the better part of the week (mon-thurs) and i really should go prep. thank you for all of your prayers and well wishes over the last week - they are greatly appreciated.

continuing unrest...

2008-11-12T14:13:00.000-08:00

It's been a few days since the protests/riots started, and it hasn't been non-stop but it has been destructive - seems to calm down at early morning and then start back up late afternoon. I found a few more pictures, and the story has definitely hit the international news so you can easily find information on it online if you're interested. I also added some pics to my last post.

They will supposedly announce the official winner of the election this afternoon - so we're expecting chaos of some sort tonight. Large groups of people are already in the streets ready to react.

As for us - we've been in the house nearly non-stop for four days now. We're going a little stir crazy, but we're safe. Keep praying if you think of it and thank you for the well wishes.

coraje en las calles...

2008-11-10T14:49:00.000-08:00

i've been looking at this blank screen all day and while the students are putting off their homework, i've been doing all sorts of my own procrastinating. i want to, and need to write today - but how does one convey the coraje (rage) of an unheard people?

here in managua the municipal elections were held yesterday. people weren't thrilled with the candidates or the political parties and many predicted violence, but it didn't actually start until today when it became fairly certain that some pretty major electoral fraud had taken place.

the president's party claimed the victory early, but the opposing party went out into the streets to protest, to 'defend their vote'. i stood there watching the footage of streets just blocks from our house...of people screaming at each other in the streets, throwing out threats to the opposition, boys breaking apart rocks to throw at the people on the other side, groups destroying 'citizen power' campaign huts, bloody bodies being carted out...and it all seemed so surreal. i just wondered, who would go out into that by choice? but what other choice do they have? in a country where so many don't have anything - don't have food to eat, don't have land to farm, don't have a house for their family - i guess i can see why there's so much rage when they take away one thing they are supposed to have, their vote.

it also made me incredibly grateful for the democratic process in the states. i thought about how upset i was in the 2004 elections, how enormous my feeling of despair was, and at the same time how i still knew that our votes had been counted and that the people had decided. i can't imagine that feeling of despair on top of feeling like the system was completely broken.

today feels heavy and anxious and the air is charged. i feel sad and grateful and unjustly blessed. we're all staying indoors and the house is safe (please don't worry about my safety) but if you think of it, pray for resolution and transparency.

a little reflection on redistribution...

2008-11-03T16:13:00.000-08:00

unbelievable that it's election time at home and in a few days (God-willing) we'll finally have an outcome. i certainly haven't had to withstand all of the political ads and bombardment that you've all endured these last few months, but even here the election is a big deal. i think people all over the world are holding their breath to see what happens, to see who we pick, to see if we factor citizens of other countries into our decision.

it's also been interesting to see how 'redistribution' and 'socialism' have become words used to instill fear these last few days. now, i'm certain that you're all aware of my political leanings - and i don't write this to try to sway your vote...although if i could, i'd be thrilled :) no, really though, obama and mccain aside, i want us to ask ourselves why we're so afraid of redistribution? and is it moral or 'christian' to be against it?

in class today our professor showed us 'the champagne glass' - which is an image to help us visualize how concentrated the resources really are. this was the cover of the UN's annual report in 1992, and at the time the richest 20% of the world's population consumed about 80% of the world's resources. sadly, in the last 16 years things haven't gotten better. and being in the middle class, in the united states, i'm undoubtedly, gluttonously, swimming around in the top of that glass.

i guess i just saw this image again today and had a gut reaction to it. i felt convicted by it and, and obligated to share it. i felt obligated to speak out for redistribution as so many are slamming it, to encourage people to look at the facts, and ask some questions. why are we so afraid to share resources? why are we ok with the fact that this just keeps getting more exagerated? why do we continue to put people into power who support this set up?

i'm not always as eloquent as i'd like to be, but i love that you're all willing to listen/read and love it even more when you comment or start conversations with me about it all. i hope that my questions come through as just that - questions, and not condemnations. and i hope that they always come through with love.

bienvenidos a nicaragua...

2008-11-01T06:36:00.000-07:00

well, new month, new country. last week we arrived in managua, nicaragua, our third, and final home city.

we had last week off for vacation so i got a chance to travel around and explore nicaragua a bit before programming starts. i saw some amazing things and really fell in love with a few places; but after getting to see the last two countries the way i did - narrated with peoples' personal stories and drenched in the context of their history and politics - i felt somehow like my feet weren't on the ground. i'm ancy to start learning the story of this place.

in the meantime, i'll include a few visuals of my week off. the first is a pic of the first island i visited, home of two volcanoes and the monkeys seen in the pic (first time i've ever seen monkeys in the wild and there was a baby!) and the picture of the cathedral is from granada.

Like You

2008-10-24T11:08:00.000-07:00

Like you I
love love, life, the sweet smell
of things, the sky blue
landscape of January days.

And my blood boils up
and I laugh through eyes
that have known the bud of tears.

I believe the world is beautiful
and that poetry, like bread, is for everyone.

And that my veins don't end in me
but in the unanimous blood
of those who struggle for life
love,
little things,
landscape and bread,
the poetry of everyone.

- Roque Dalton, translated by Jack Hirschman

an open plea...

2008-10-20T14:53:00.000-07:00

I've been overwhelmed this month by people's openness to us as United States-ians. It seems that with the influences that our government has had in the history of this country, people would be a tad more hostile. However, while our government was supporting the military, there were a great deal of individuals, and organizations supporting the people of this country - and they have not forgotten it. They express gratitude for past support and for our continuing to come to their home to hear their story. I feel so blessed to be here, listening to these stories.

Having grown up with such extreme privilege, it's easy for me to forget that not everyone gets a voice. Not everyone gets to tell their story and be heard - and man do these people have stories. And when they finish I often find myself sitting there, overwhelmed by the heaviness and strength in their testimonies, overwhelmed by the responsibility of knowing it all.

And then, almost without fail, as if knowing that the question of 'what now?' is hanging in the air, they just ask us to tell it again, to whoever will listen. It's such a vulnerable, open plea for the spreading of truth. Such an idylic belief in the idea that if people know what happened - it's less likely to happen again. So here I am, being repetitious, and perhaps overly reflective - but I'm glad that you're here listening/reading. It can feel like it's all too much, but i know that this is a first step. Thank you for caring about me and for caring about these stories and these people that continue to teach me about how connected we are to each other.

"a generation or two ago no one knew what was going on here - and that's why all of this craziness could happen."

- professor at local university, San Salvador

a four block walk...

2008-10-16T20:10:00.000-07:00

So it may not the most socially responsible consumption - but man. oh. man. do I love Cinnabon. And I have certainly never lived within a four block walk of a Cinnabon...but I do now, which is dangerous and wonderful. Who would have guessed, in El Salvador.

Entertainingly enough Cinnabon's mission statement here is: Hagamos que nuestros visitantes digan "WOW!"/We make our clientes say "WOW!". Ha. That's my coworker Joe in the photo, he's a fellow (and perhaps even bigger) fan of the bon.

Well, that's globalization for you...and in this case, especially on a tough day when I'm missing home, I'll take it.

community exemplified...

2008-10-14T11:55:00.000-07:00

Mud, bugs, extreme heat, bad roads, kinds of toads and spiders i've never seen, bucket baths, latrines...yup, sounds like a weekend in the country. Truly though, for all of the discomforts it was beyond worth it to see and experience this community first hand.

The members that now make up the community left their homes for safety during the war. They fled to one of the few overcrowded refugee camps - 400 people in a church basement with one bathroom. There was little to no food and if they left the church they would be killed by the military - outsiders occasionally took risks and visited them, to bring food and, eventually, to help them leave the country.

With the help from a British man, they escaped to Nicaragua and lived there as refugees for 10 years. They hadn't known each other before the refugee camp, but they organized, formed a co-op to work communally and essentially became each others new family. And when they decided they wanted to return to their country, they weren't allowed. The government was threatened by an empowered group and feared they would be a political base for the guerrillas.

To make a long, powerful story shamefully short, they protested and fought and eventually made their way back into El Salvador - with a new communal plot of land. As part of the Peace Accords at the end of the war, the government agreed to redistribute the land. However, they were against the idea of giving it to a group of people rather than individuals - organized groups are threatening to the status quo. This community had become bonded enough that they fought to receive their land communally; they created a communal daycare, gave each family a piece of land to work individually, built homes for all together, and have developed the best educational system in the region.

What struck me as most moving is that the community has truly been a support network for the individuals within it. over the last 15 years, nearly all of the surrounding areas (whcih took their land in individual plots) have lost most of their land - poverty prevails and when land is all people have it's too easy to sell it for medicine or school or debt. However, in this community, it's not an option to sell. You have your land to work, but it's not yours to sell. You're part of a whole; and your success directly affect your community's success. These people work so ridiculously hard to continue to improve the lives of those around them.

I think in the face of affluence it's easier to forget the ways in which we are connected to our communities and the incredible potential for strength that's there. Perhaps this will be become more apparent as we get a little less comfortable in the states. Certainly this community isn't without it's flaws, but it was beyond encouraging for me to see this sense of community lived and out and exemplified so beautifully.

plantas de fuego!

2008-10-08T13:20:00.000-07:00

one of the larger components of my job is to accompany students to the doctor/hospital when they aren't feeling well. i've been there every day since sunday, usually with digestive issues...but last weekend presented a new scenario.

in groups of 2-4 students ventured out to rural Christian Base Communities to study the ways in which people's faith manifests itself in everyday life and in their communities. (i spent the weekend sleeping, catching up on reading and, in general, relaxing.) students came back and raved about the level of organization they saw, the sense of community they felt and the general warmth of the people.

one girl also showed me her arms and made some joke about them being red. they had gone on a hike and something irritated them, it seemed - a rash, we assumed. she took some bendryl and went to bed. throughout the course of the following day (at the beach) the 'rash' turned into some of the most horrific blisters i've seen...ever(this pic doesn't really do it justice). we decided it best to visit the doctor and found out in the ER that she had second degree burns...from a plant!

fortunately the 'burnt girl' just so happens to be one of the most gracious, upbeat people i've met and we actually had a really good time in the hospital - i think we were both just in shock and we couldn't stop laughing about how bizarre it all was.

what? plants that burn? apparently it's a defense mechanism some have developed...and everyone on the hike was worried about spiders. who knew - plantas de fuego. i swear, the learning never stops around here.

six of many...

2008-10-02T14:01:00.000-07:00

Heavy day. Full of really necessary learning, but not easy to swallow. We visited a college university here in San Salvador where, near the end of the war, six priests were assassinated by the military.

During the war here in El Salvador there were three main entities: the military, fighting to maintain the system of the time (supported by the US), the guerrillas, fighting for change, for a balancing out of the status quo (often seen as 'communists'), and the civilians. The priests fell into the civilian category - but they were Christians. They were theologians, professors at the university; they were question askers. Through their support and development of liberation theology they presented a Christ that favors the poor, that calls for an end to suffering.

And this was enough for them to be lumped in with the guerrillas, to be considered a threat to the state. Enough for the El Salvadoran military, backed by ours, to consider brutally killing them justified.

That weekend in Nov, 1989 marked the first military action in the capital and included a US supported military "campus check" (which would later be determined as having been used to plan the killings). Two days after the check, the military returned in the night, drug the priests out of their home, shot them, broke open their skulls and spread their brains on the front lawn (the lawn, now a rose garden, shown in pic). Brain matter on the lawn - a strong symbol sent to the people that the military would do anything necessary to kill the ideas, kill any thinkers considered revolutionary.

To know that it happened is saddening, and angering. And looking through the pictures of the tortured bodies was sickeningly heartbreaking...but to know that our government was part of it - that they encouraged the killing of priests who were speaking out about human rights...that seems even harder to swallow.

Much to think about.

share your food

2008-10-01T12:56:00.000-07:00

I was gifted with a new spin on an old story in class today.

Peggy was talking about the 'Jesus feeds the 5000' story and pressing us to think on it in new ways - to consider the idea that perhaps Jesus didn't magically duplicate the fish and bread, but that rather he convinced the few who had food to share it with the many, and that in his presence people were encouraged not to consume more than they needed.

And if you think about an angry hungry mob (or any society based on consumption), and then think about what he pulled off - this perspective seems far more impressive to me than the traditional one with which I grew up. What kind of a personality would it take to pull that off?

I don't present this example to be 'blasphemous' - or say that Jesus couldn't have magically duplicated the food. But I know that I'll never pull loaves out of a hat; however, I can learn from and work toward this new example. I feel closer to and more encouraged by a Jesus who organized the masses without magic and somehow got the simple "share your food" message across to the few who had much. And "they all ate and were satisfied" - Luke 9:17

Cuscatlan

2008-09-30T20:35:00.000-07:00

Before El Salvador was called El Salvador, it was called Cuzhcatl (in spanish: Cuscatlan) - which means 'land of precious things'. To me this seems both beautifully truthful and tragic in light of many of the country's current realities.

I've been in El Salvador for a few days now and we have certainly been busy. I have been attempting to do my job well, keep up with the assigned readings for the class on liberation theology and still stay connected to the students, with whom I now live. The house dynamic has been good and I actually love getting to be part of the class. It's pretty amazing that we get to read about this stuff (the war, development of liberation theology, etc...) and then go out and meet people who were there, who were influential, who can speak to us about it first hand.

I'll attempt in some of my posts to tell bits of their stories, but I thought that first off, I'd share some context. This truly is a fascinating place that is undoubtedly connected to the United States and our reality in more ways than most of us realize. When I learn some of this stuff I'm just embarrassed that I didn't know it before...and as I learn it, it just makes me want to know more about here, and so many other places that go shamefully unmentioned in our media and our formal education.

If you've got a few minutes read the facts below and welcome to my second leg of the journey.

- El Salvador is the smallest and most densely populated country in Central America. (approx population: 6.7 million people).

The War:
- El Salvador experienced an internal conflict/civil war for 12 years officially (from '81-'92)
- Approx 76,000 people died in the war.
- Truth commissions after the war reported that approximately 85% of the killings and disappearances were committed by the military and 10% by the guerrillas (the rest unknown).
- During the civil war the military of El Salvador received an average of 1.5 million dollars in aid from the United States per day.

Economy:
- El Salvador has used the American dollar as its currency since 2001.
- The average minimum wage is $183/month and the cost of living for a family of 5 is approx: $740/month.
- An estimated 1,000 Salvadorans immigrate to the United States each day.
- many predict this number will increase dramatically (even double) if the left political party loses the upcoming election in March 2009

la escuela de la montana...

2008-09-27T21:09:00.000-07:00

so my week in the mountains is done and it was an excellent time. i've been stressing about how to write about it all...i'll write a bit now and if more comes to me later i'll post and backdate it (hope this isn't too confusing)

time there (my verse wasn't all that entertaining, but the song in after our evening at the coffee cooperative i headed to 'the mountain school' with a smaller group of students (just 6 of the 18). we spent a week studying spanish (the little hut in the picture there was my classroom), eating meals with a local family, participating in the school's scheduled activities and general community livin'. it was really fun to get to know the students better and a late night beetle incident with one of the students made me laugh so hard i cried - first time that's happened since i left home. it's incredible how rejuvenating laughter can be. we finished the week off with a rap that students wrote about their its entirety cracked me up) and a really great graduation evening with the teachers.

it rained every day and everything was wet and chilly for the whole week, but if they send me back in February i'll be more than happy to return.

peace harmony love coffee...

2008-09-22T12:00:00.000-07:00

so, my little brother danny enjoys giving me a hard time about just about anything - and makes no exception for my somewhat idealized thoughts about the fair trade 'peace harmony love' process. i think that deep down he believes in it as well, but it certainly does present a prime opportunity to get a rise out of me.

anyway, i digress - last weekend we got the chance to visit a place that actually sells their coffee through the peace coffee company. i want to write all about the experience, but for safety reasons i'm hesitant to disclose details and without having visited it's difficult to imagine - but i'll describe a little...and attach a few photos.

to begin: the sign at the entrance says of the community says, "together, we build a true democracy, with our hearts to the left". the community itself is a settlement of former guerrillas (people fighting against the government during the war) who had nothing after the signing of the peace accords. through a loan, they acquired their coffee growing land and began to build the type of community in which they desired to live.

they took us on a walking tour of their property. it's gorgeous country, and for me even more so knowing that it's collectively owned and people are benefiting, are being given the chance to better their community due to their 'profits'. it certainly hasn't been an easy path - the leader with whom we met talked extensively of the paradigm shift they all had to undergo in order to change from 'campesinos trabajadores' (farmhands) to 'campesinos productores' (producers/business owners) and how that shift demanded that they organized themselves in a new way.

they work extensively to meet the organic and fair trade requirements, they pay the necessary fees to sell in fair trade ($1,200/yr) and organic (approx: $3,000/yr) markets...and their profits aren't huge. their living standards are very basic - but they are grateful to have electricity, a school, and running water. above all - they spoke of gratitude to have opportunity.

in the mountains...

2008-09-19T17:31:00.000-07:00

well - we're headed out to the mountains for a week of 'rural experience'. this week has finished up well. should be good but i'll be without internet and phone. i'll let you know how it went once i'm back.

hallowness...

2008-09-16T08:22:00.000-07:00

It's hard to hear about difficulties at home when one is so far away. We never really get taught how to grieve losses or how to comfort those experiencing loss but we certainly all develop our own methods. Yesterday - in the face of some heavy emails and a personal loss I was driven to my own coping methods: a chat with Tory, an ice cream cone...and then I still needed something more.

I'm very much a 'words person' and so I took to reading old emails (yes - I'm fairly obsessive about archiving all emails I receive). Above all, words from people with whom I've lost touch. I found comfort in the fact that although we no longer write, I can continue learning from them and continue feeling their love and care. A dear friend wrote a few years back while we were both embarking on new and somewhat overwhelming ventures in our respective careers. He spoke to the emptiness we can feel and the opportunity that it creates in us. I just loved this chunk when I reread it last night:

"I feel called to what i do and my hollowness is only creating more room for God to work in and shape my life. I can't wait for that mighty rushing wind to come through, cause it feels like i'm running out of my own, and i'm going to need a lot to get through the next few weeks. I don't doubt that it will happen, I'm just intimidated by what it will do and feel like in me."

What a beautiful and humble expression of faith. Thank you all for your words as I continue learning on this newest of journeys (and now you know you're being archived!) - I'm beyond blessed with deep friendships and incredible family.

extremes...

2008-09-15T16:30:00.000-07:00

I just spent a few minutes looking through pictures from this weekend and smiling. We had today (Monday) off because it’s independence day here today – a long weekend for students and staff included. The students headed to the lake (Lago Atitlan) and we headed to the capital city for some fun with one of our coworkers Ruth – she’s a Guatemala City native and a sweetheart. The weekend was full of fun conversations and luxuries including (but not limited to) a morning at a lovely salon, a wonderful lunch and a cinnabun for dessert, a massage, a new pair of skinny jeans and a fabulous evening of dancing.

And although all of the previously mentioned things were wonderful, the best part about this weekend was feeling like I have friends down here. Joe (my coworker) and his girlfriend Elliett are wonderful and silly and do a great job at including me in general, and Ruth is just as great. Perhaps not what most people imagine my life down here to look like, but hey, Central America is certainly a place of extremes. This weekend – extremely good.

la claridad...

2008-09-12T07:46:00.000-07:00

“Si en la casa hay oscuridad – nunca va a lograr claridad en la comunidad. La claridad tiene que empezar con la familia y luego extender a la comunidad”

“If there is darkness in the home – clarity/light will never be achieved in the community. Clarity must begin in the family and then be extended to the community.”

– a female ex-guerrilla combatant, and her thoughts on achieving peace/clarity

weekends away...

2008-09-09T07:55:00.000-07:00

Although our primary operations are happening here in Xela (Spanish classes and speakers presenting various stories from the war), we also venture out often. Last weekend we headed to Chichicastenango – a smaller city about 2 hours from here. It was a good weekend trip; it’s so much easier to travel with this kind of operation than on the chicken buses, I’m getting spoiled quickly. We all stayed together in a hotel and it was great time for the group to process what they have heard thus far and just be together after a week apart in their homestays.

On Saturday we got to visit a group of women whose husbands died during the war. They have formed a sewing cooperative and sell many of their items to groups like ours and through organizations like Ten Thousand Villages. I’ve been working on moving towards buying fair trade goods, and have talked about it with friends and family at home – but it can be hard sometimes for a ‘thrify’(/cheap) person like me to fork up the extra cash….Needless to say it was very encouraging to meet some of the actual people who benefit from such fair trade systems and will hopefully be something that sticks with me. (Shameless plug for them but…If anyone’s interested you can check out Ten Thousand Villages online at: http://www.tenthousandvillages.com/)or visit their store in St. Paul.

It was also fun to spend most of the day on Sunday in the market – I was battling a cold and a headache, but didn’t let that stop me. I spent the entire morning just wandering, haggling, purchasing, people watching, it was wonderful. And now we’re back here in Xela, with four days to recoup until our next weekend adventure.

observations from the second time through...

2008-09-05T08:33:00.001-07:00

It seems like I’ve been on the go since I started this little adventure, but Xela (pronounced ‘Shay-la’) is beginning to feel like home base and I really like it here.

Life is funny, a few years back when my little brother Mark and Dan Marx were in Mexico we decided to take a road trip down to southern Mexico and perhaps see a bit of Guatemala. Due to a number of unexpected turns in the road we actually ended up on a chicken bus that brought us right here to Xela. When I rode back into town two weeks ago, our van turned the corner and we headed toward a hotel across the street from the hostel I stayed in 2.5 years ago. It gave me this sensation that life is much more cyclical than I realize; and I’m not a big believer in ‘fate’, but I was also overcome by the feeling that I’m back here to learn something that I didn’t pick then. We pulled into the hotel and I felt resigned – in the best possible way – to keep myself open to whatever it was I missed the first time around.

So maybe my spirit was ‘pre-warmed’ to this place, but I feel at peace here. It’s the second largest city in Guatemala, but it’s nestled in the mountains and the people are very friendly. We’ve stayed mostly in the center, but around here I feel like I know my way around, I can be independent when I need to get thins done, but we’re all close enough to each other that people are accessible. And the climate is, in my opinion, pretty close to ideal for the time being: chilly (fall chilly, not MN winter chilly) in the mornings and warm/hot in the afternoon with occasional rain.

mi madre nueva

2008-09-04T11:02:00.000-07:00

so i finally met my host mom! i was scheduled to move in with a family on sunday, but due to a few unforeseen circumstances it got put off until yesterday afternoon. she's a sweet woman who lives just around the corner from the language school. my room is enormous, my bed is really comfortable and i had a hot shower this morning...so as far as homestays go - excellent. she said she was pleasantly surprised that i already speak spanish and we chatted at length this morning. seems like she's a loner - no kids, no husband, parents are dead, doesn't get along well with her siblings that live in town. hasn't mentioned friends. she has a shop in her home and so works from home...i hope i can offer some good companionship for a few weeks in return for her open door and good food.

Friday’s

2008-09-03T10:42:00.000-07:00

So I had this amazing burger at TGI Friday’s. And then I started feeling guilty. I was watching our waiter, with all of his flare, and wondering how much he gets paid hourly. I asked my coworkers and they responded – ‘probably about minimum wage’.

Minimum wage here in Guatemala is about 37 Quetzales a day, which comes out to about 5 dollars a day – not an hour, a day. In Guatemala ‘minimum wage’ is actually more like a maximum wage; it’s what’s written in law but that doesn’t mean it’s what you actually get paid. That being the case, on top of the fact that the cost of operation down here is far less – you’d think I would have gotten a deal. But I definitely paid about 8 dollars for the meal – not including my drink. Eight dollars! And best case scenario, pins-and-buttons-guy (our waiter) takes home five? Something’s wrong – someone’s making a little too much money here.

It’s easy not to think about this stuff, and it’s easy to assume that they get paid 5 dollars a day because that’s about what they need to live in Guatemala – but that’s just not the case. We don’t even pay a livable minimum wage to our own people in the US, let alone the foreigners we outsource to power our American corporations abroad.

I know that I’m ‘getting political’ by bringing this stuff up - and I understand that economics aren’t simple – but why do we think it’s ok to take economic advantage of people just because we can? I'm sure that there will be many other questions I post here along the way. Always feel free to comment, I love a good discussion - even if I'm a few countries away.

All my best to all of you!

futbol!

2008-08-30T22:18:00.000-07:00

So – I played soccer today. That might not seem like that big of a deal to those of you who don’t know me all that well, but…well, it is. I guess it just needed to be part of my job before I’d venture back into an athletic game, but I did – and…get this: I actually enjoyed myself. I wasn’t that good and I know I’ll be sore tomorrow (running around for an hour at 6,000 feet is something to which my body certainly isn’t accustomed) but I had a good time.

And beyond that – it was a good lesson in humility. Every day we’re asking these students to make themselves look stupid as they try to communicate in toddler level Spanish. I was there once, but it’s been a while and while I still make mistakes, I’m comfortable doing so at this point and usually realize when it happens. It had been a while since I had felt as exposed and untalented as I did when we started today...and then I got over it. And that felt really good.

two weeks in...

2008-08-29T21:15:00.000-07:00

It’s Friday night and the majority of the students are hanging out together in the room next door. It’s been a long week of orientation activities and ‘getting to know you’ games – but it seems to have worked, they’re all ripping on Arnold in a terribly dubbed version of “The Predator” and continuing with their own version of ‘getting to know you’.

With both my week of personal orientation, and now the week with the students here I’m two weeks in and feeling good. And while my first week of personal orientation was really good, it’s been so encouraging for me to have the students here. They all bring stories and knowledge and senses of humor that are such fun to get to know – turns out I sort of like meeting new people : )

I’m also grateful to be here with a community. This program believes so strongly in learning in community and sharing what we’re each going through with each other. I knew coming in, but it has certainly been reinforced that the subject matter of this semester will be heavy indeed. And it’s not just hard to hear because it’s tragic and sad, but it’s hard to hear because having heard these stories, and knowing these people puts huge responsibility on each of us as receivers of that information. I’ve already spent some time feeling overwhelmed by it all – but I’m content to be in a place that refuses to let me be complacent. And, because we’re in such tight community – we don’t have to process this all alone. Which I’m also excited about.

(An afterthought: While re-reading what I’ve written thus far I realize that my posts have been lacking in specifics about the actual things that are impacting me…it’s too late tonight to write more (I think it’s time to head out dancing) but I promise to attempt to include more of that in the future).

where in the world...

2008-08-20T14:08:00.000-07:00

Since I would have *bombed* the Carmen Sandiego challenge as a child (and even/especially now) I thought I would not assume that others just so happen to know where I am at this moment in time.

So a very short geography lesson follows - many of you will already know these things, and for those of you who don't, there's no need to feel shame. When they offered me the job I also pulled out a map to see exactly where I'd be.

The map above shows Central America in relation to the states (good ol' Texas and Florida representing) and South America below. I drew a black box around the portion of Central America in which I'll be living over the course of the next year - and you can see a close up below (don't be tricked! the box I drew does not include all of Central America).

I am currently in Managua - which is nicely noted with a star. Tonight I will take a bus to San Salvador and on Saturday I will take another bus to Guatemala City. We'll meet the students in Guatemala City on Monday and be there for a few days before heading to a smaller city - I can't wait to meet all of the students, and to be in a place that's not quite as warm as it is here.

That's all I've got today; and I promise that this will be the only geography lesson you'll get from me - I always did like Rockapella more than the geography trivia anyway.

my path...

2008-08-16T17:09:00.000-07:00

Greetings! and welcome to my humble lugarcito (little place) online!

Some of you may have read my Cuernavaca blog, some of you may be entirely new to this ‘blogging business’ but I wanted there to be a space in which loved ones could check in on my thoughts and experiences in Central America this year.

I write today from my bed in the Program House in Managua, Nicaragua. I slept 10 hours last night, caught up on some reading, went on a small city tour with my new coworker Joe and am attempting to let my spirit ’sink in’ a tad.

Those of you who have spoken to me about this Internship know that my expectations were vague, to say the least. With each conversation this place and my role in it are becoming more clear, little by little. It’s incredibly warm here today and my body is tired, my head aches, but my spirit - only slightly muted by the heat - is tentatively giddy about the months to come and the path on which I’ve embarked.

Say not, "I have found the truth," but rather, "I have found a truth."
Say not, "I have found the path of the soul." Say rather, "I have met the soul walking upon my path."
For the soul walks upon all paths.
The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.
The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.
- Kahlil Gibran