El Campo

Last weekend I took a trip with my host family out to a very rural area outside of Tipitapa (which, by the way, is a very fun name to pronounce). The purpose of the trip was to visit the sister of one of my “brother-in-law” and take supplies and gifts to the inhabitants. We left on Saturday morning and drove for three hours, passing cities, then towns, and then isolated farms. The roads turned from asphalt to dirt to rock to…I kid you not…water. As we drove through a shallow section of a small river and I watched the water rise around us, I had my doubts that our mini-bus would make it. The rocks also posed a challenge, and we got temporarily stuck or bottomed out several times. The further we traveled into the countryside, the more visible the poverty of the inhabitants became. In the cities and towns, the majority of the houses were cement or adobe, with corrugated steel roofs. In the countryside, the lack of access to everything became obvious. Houses made of sticks or wooden slats. Structures that could hardly qualify as shelters, constructed of a few poles and plastic bags or tarps tied on.

Our destination was one of the nicest homes in the area, and it was still a shocking contrast to the paradise that I’ve been fortunate enough to inhabit since moving here. The woman we were visiting lives in a two room structure made of wooden slats that do not create a solid wall. The floor is dirt, and there are no doors. In the last year, she has managed to add electricity through the purchase of a solar panel. This is a big step up from her neighbors, who must operate within the hours of daylight or use small flashlights intermittently (so as to save battery life).There is no running water – water must be drawn from a well. The bathroom is a small relatively open latrine, and there is another separate and open structure that provides just enough privacy to take a bucket shower.

This place was REALLY cut off. There is no health center. There is no school (right now, the church – a recent addition through international aid – serves as a classroom for all the children that manage to attend. Some have to walk several hours in the dark just to get there on time, and during the rainy season the roads become too treacherous for small bodies to traverse. Additionally, many children have work to do that prevents them from attending regularly if at all. And there are the frequent bouts of gastrointestinal issues brought on by parasites and bacteria). A bus only comes three times a week to carry inhabitants from one “convenient” location to the largest town nearby. It only makes one trip on the days that it operates, so one must plan to leave in time to get to the stop by 7 AM, and must have finished with all business in town by noon. There are no stores any closer where one can buy basic supplies, and people don’t have the money for them anyway.

We had brought used clothing and shoes; plastic cups, bowls, and plates; buckets; candy for the kids; and bags of oranges, mandarins, rice, beans, and bread. All of these items that we take for granted were received with joy and gratitude. And in return, they shared with us what they had to offer – incredible generosity from those who, in comparison, had so little to give. Bottles of fresh honey from the bee-keepers. Watermelons and peppers from the farmers. Eggs and chickens. Fresh milk candy and vegetable soup made at dawn. I was told that the community is always this way – they share what they have so that they may all survive. They give and take freely, and care for neighbors as though they were extended family. To me, this life seems almost unbearably hard, and yet the people I met do not seem to feel that way. Life is simply…life. It is what it is, and they are determined to make the best of it. I should also mention that, in the 24 hours that I spent there, I did not shower. I had forgotten most of my supplies and furthermore had not considered it to be worth the time and effort given the short duration of the trip. I was BY FAR the most disgusting person there. It doesn’t matter how poor someone is here, and how little one might have. Appearance is paramount. Great pride is taken in staying clean and presentable. I felt like a complete slob.

I spent most of my time sitting with various visitors and inhabitants, listening to the conversation and taking in the life and land. For me, the weekend was an incredible experience and I’m grateful to my host family for allowing me to accompany them; I learned a little more about the country that will be my home for the next two years, and the people I will be serving once I am a full-fledged volunteer (that is, if I manage to pass my language proficiency exam…).