I’m not lazy, I’m adjusting

From my blog posts as of late, you’re probably all thinking that the majority of my time here in Nicaragua is spent observing and/or killing the native wildlife. This is not entirely true. In between the Raid-infused insect massacres and brick-sized rat traps, I’ve actually started to do a bit of work.

During training, both Peace Corps staff and current volunteers warned us that we most likely would experience a three to six month period of time in the beginning of our service in which we would spend most of our time “adjusting” (in other words, doing very little work). In the eyes of Peace Corps, this process of getting to know our community and the host country culture has just as much value as any of the outputs produced during our two year period. It is a time to build professional and personal networks, gain a better understanding of the people we will be working with, and learn the best ways in which to work with them. It is also a time for our colleagues and community members to learn about us and American culture.

I will admit that so far, much of my activity falls solidly into this category of “adjustment.” I have made many trips into the surrounding communities, following around health center staff like a puppy as they treat patients, and making friends with the community health workers (brigadistas) that I plan to work with more extensively in the future. I have attended several meetings, and even stumbled through short presentations on lactation, nutrition, hypertension, and family planning. However, I am also preparing materials for presentations on various health topics, and plan to begin weekly presentations at the health center and casa materna this week. Oh and I got to weigh and measure some adorable little kids.

I’m not terribly concerned that my work thus far has been limited. I’ve developed a three month (and beyond) work plan that includes activities such as:

• Giving presentations in health facilities, community meetings, and schools
• Visiting the communities to participate in programs related to family planning, maternal and child health, environmental health, and nutrition,
• Making health posters,
• Forming youth groups,
• Co-facilitating trainings,
• Planting community gardens,
• Organizing a health fair,
• Developing and implementing a community health survey, and
• Assisting with epidemiological work.

I have visions of construction projects if I can find a way to collaborate with the mayor{s office or NGOs: a basic health facility, latrines, and an oven to provide food and an income generating opportunity for the casa materna. There are also potential opportunities to engage in non-health related activities, such as teaching English to high school or college aged youth.

I’m not sure at this point how much of this plan will be realized, but I do know that I will do more than adjust.

Words of the week:  Taller - training
Aprovechar - to take advantage (of a situation - positive connotation)

I don’t need pets; I have plenty of visitors.

Many Peace Corps volunteers adopt a pet at some point during their two year service. I admit that I’ve considered the idea but never seriously, as the responsibility of caring for any animal here is most likely more than I would want to take on. “Pet” means something different here than in the states; animals rarely receive the level of affection, attention, and coddling that Americans lavish on their beloved furry friends. Instead, pets are guard animals, pest control, and scrap clean-up. They are generally left to their own devices, and are rarely kept indoors (or, to be honest, kept at all – most spend their days wandering the streets, looking for food or potential mates). However, being an American, I would most likely struggle with this method of pet ownership. I would want to keep my pet safe and comfortable, and possibly have it stay in my room. Which would then mean I would need to constantly be worried about a host of insects, parasites, and general filthiness that the pets here carry with them. Then there are the vaccinations, the spaying or neutering (sadly underused here), the food, and pet care while I am working or traveling… See what I mean? Too much trouble for lazy me.

But I may have found another solution. I can just consider all of the various creatures that invade my room on a daily basis my new, albeit temporary, pets. For example, there are the toads that visit me after rain storms. Or the bees that fly in after visiting the branches of the flowering trees that drape over my roof. Or the mice that make nightly appearances, with their incredible ability to scale walls or find and devour any scrap of food, no matter how small, well-packaged, or hidden. Sometimes they also eat things that I would not consider to be food. Which brings me to a story about another “pet” – one that I hope does not make a reappearance.

Thursday night, as I prepared myself for bed, I noticed a large dark blotch on the wall near my shoes. I went to inspect this unidentifiable form, then quickly recoiled – it was a scorpion. Dark brown, fat, with a body the size of a half dollar. What to do? I could attempt to grab one of the shoes and squash it, but it was so close to the shoe that this might provoke an attack. Furthermore, I am not known for my accuracy when attempting to kill insects on vertical surfaces; if I missed, would it run toward my feet? Jump at my hand? I wasn’t willing to risk it.

So I did the next best thing. Standing on the corner of my bed, I grabbed my can of Raid, aimed, and began firing. At which point, I realized that this was not just any scorpion. This was a mother scorpion. With dozens of baby scorpions, all riding on its back. As the Raid worked it’s horrifyingly toxic magic, the family was left twitching on the floor. I blasted everything a bit longer for good measure, then tucked myself under my mosquito net, turned off the light, and struggled to breathe (made difficult by my lingering terror and the overwhelming cloud of toxic fumes).

I slept poorly that night, and awoke feeling exhausted and ill. I climbed out of bed and went over to the corner to examine the remains of my kill and determine clean-up processes, only to find….nothing. The corpses had disappeared completely, leaving a chemically saturated but otherwise clean patch of floor. I panicked. Had I been wrong about the effectiveness of the Raid? Were they simply wet, and were now lying in wait, plotting their revenge? Once again, I lost my breath. Then, it came back to me. The scuttling and crunching during the night. I asked around, and had a very helpful friend back home do some digging, and it turns out….mice will eat dead scorpions. Even toxic scorpion corpses. I don’t know if this makes me more afraid of the mice, but I can rest easier knowing that I don’t have a family of reanimated scorpions out to kill me.

The funny thing? I may have avoided a scorpion sting on Thursday, but last night as I was getting ready for bed, I was bitten by yet another, more common visitor: a cricket. Which, according to the research conducted by my friend, will also eat scorpion if given the opportunity.

Word of the week: Alacran – scorpion.

Greetings from in-site!

After spending the weekend with my fellow Nica 58ers, celebrating our transition to volunteerhood, I find myself in the hills of Madriz. It is significantly hotter and drier now than only a few weeks ago, but I am still impressed by the beauty of my new home.

I begin my life as a volunteer during Semana Santa, perhaps one of the most holy weeks of the year for a large number of Central American inhabitants. Work grinds to a halt as people reunite with extended family, attend church services, and spend time relaxing near any locally available source of water (an ocean, a lake, a river, or in the case of Madriz, a giant canyon).

Consequently, I haven’t had much to do other than begin the settling in process. Slowly but surely, I am learning to use the wood burning stove. I am adjusting once more to the 5 am to 9 pm day (made easier by the fact that the sun swiftly abandons its post in the Nicaraguan sky around 6 pm year-round). I am getting back to grocery shopping, and have purchased a few “adjustment items” such as Tupperware and an electric hot plate (in case of emergencies or laziness).

And then there’s my Spanish. My poor brain has had a rough go of things in the language department these past two weeks. The amount of English being spoken on a daily basis seemed to quadruple following our final language interview, making any attempt to switch back to Spanish mode harder and harder. Now that I am in-site, I am struggling to get back to full operational capacity, a task made more difficult by northern Nica vocabulary and speaking styles. Although I am feeling somewhat discouraged by my ineffective communication and comprehension skills, I do find myself having small moments of success: making a joke that is appreciated by a coworker, correctly guessing the answer to a riddle posed by a child, or understanding the majority of the dialogue in the Spanish-dubbed Ocean’s Eleven. One might argue that the last example is hardly impressive given the number of times I’ve seen the movie in English, but I’m going to go ahead and list it as a success anyway. I am looking forward to seeing what advances I can make in the next few months leading up to our in-service language training.

Work starts officially on Monday. Until then, I suppose it’s time to learn the art of Central American relaxation. Anyone up for a trip to the canyon?

Nica word of the week: Chigüin(a) - child (Northern Nica! In the south, we used "chavalo")