Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

I awoke to the crash of thunder and pounding of the rain, magnified by the corrugated zinc sheets of the roof. Fear gripped me. There was someone outside of my window. I pulled the curtain back slightly from the window to take a peek. A large, wide brown eye stared back at me. Two horses, terrified of the storm, had taken shelter on the front porch. I released the air I didn't even know I’d been holding in, took a deep breath, turned over, and fell back asleep. The next morning, the horses were gone. I could have almost written the encounter off as a dream if it wasn't for the two large piles of horse poop my host mother was angrily sweeping from the porch tiles.

It’s been a month since I've moved. My fifth residence. My fourth family (if you don’t count the staff of Hotel Brandt’s in Managua where I spent a month and a half in-between sites). My host sister from my first family here in Pearl Lagoon was sent suddenly to Pueblo Nuevo for work, taking her baby and mother with her. My new family is friendly and welcoming; the home dry and comfortable. Still, as with all moves, it has required some adjusting.

Obviously, there’s getting used to the new physical environment: I am now living in a neighborhood closer to the center of town, which means more foot traffic and more noise. My new house has a beautiful bathroom, but lacks a kitchen and sinks. Ever washed your coffee mug in the shower? My new bedroom is spacious, but I haven’t yet found a way to hang my mosquito net. Every night is a mental battle: coat myself in oily, noxious repellent, or rely on the fan to blow the blood suckers away (a not entirely reliable method, especially with our recent bout of power outages)?

More difficult (though more rewarding) are the adjustments one must make to happily and comfortably cohabit your new home. It takes time to get to know people; to understand their moods, their likes and dislikes, their ways of communicating. Even harder is finding what your place is in the family. As you all know, Peace Corps volunteers in Nicaragua must live in a host family situation for the entirety of their training and service. Is this family accustomed to having people outside of their family (much less foreigners) live with them? Are they looking for a renter/rentee relationship? Friendship? Or are they interested in “adopting” you – treating you as a sibling, child, or grandchild? And what is it that YOU want from THEM? There will be moments of confusion, awkwardness, and frustration as you work to figure one another out. Hopefully, you and your family will develop a positive relationship over time. If not, you can always look for a new place to stay…

 I was concerned about this latest move; I didn't know how much more adjusting I could take. Every move – every family I’d had to say good bye to – seemed to rip a small piece from my heart. I felt depleted, raw, inflexible. I wanted no more of this family/home stay business. I wanted my own space, where I wouldn't have to adjust. The universe, however, had other plans for me. The move date approached and no reasonable rental option had been uncovered. Instead, a well-respected teacher, upon hearing my plight, approached my health director and offered to house me. She seemed nice, and frankly I had no other option. So I packed my bags, moved into the home she shared with one of her daughters and baby granddaughter, and started adjusting again…

Which brings us to the present. I think it’s going well, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that, with eight months to go, there are no more major adjustments to be made. And no more horses on the front porch in the middle of the night.

Word of the week: mudarse - to move

Rollin’ On the River

I sat under the soiled black plastic tarp, the rain seeping through the multitude of puncture holes and tears and dripping down my neck. What am I doing here?

The small, rickety boat swayed violently beneath me. Light streamed through the cracks in the wooden planks that composed the sides. I grabbed the sawed off plastic motor oil bottle from the bottom of the boat and began to bail out the water sloshing against my rubber boots. Please get us out of this river as soon as possible…

Outside the cover of the tarp, a man labored ineffectively to chop through the tree branches that blocked our path to Pedregal. Due to relentless, driving rains that had started nearly a week before, the river had risen so dramatically that bridges, pastures, and houses were under the muddy, swiftly flowing water. The branches we were trying to pass through were not fallen limbs, but rather tree tops. …and please, please, PLEASE let the spiders stay outside of the boat!

…

After weeks of planning and preparation, my colleagues and I officially began work on the SPA project. One week before, we held the first of our training sessions in Pearl Lagoon for the community health workers of Nueva Esperanza, La Fe, Brown Bank, and Kahkabila. We then made our way up the lagoon to Pueblo Nuevo as the rains descended upon us. Now, we were trying to finish the first series of trainings in Pedregal, but it appeared that the weather was against us. We had passed the better part of the morning crossing the lagoon in a large, slow-moving passenger boat. The storm clouds gathered, darkening the sky, while we fought the current to crawl up the Pachy River toward the tiny village of Pondler. There, we transferred to a small boat (but not before first killing a spider the size of my hand that had made its home inside) and began the 3-5 hour journey to Pedregal.

An hour in, we got stuck. There was simply no way to clear the path. Seven hours of travel, and we would now need to turn around and head home without reaching our final destination. Then, as if adding insult to injury, the rain began in earnest.

…

After landing in Pondler, my colleague and I took turns bathing in a small washing shed using fresh, cold water from a well. The rain gradually abated with the setting of the sun. We sat together on plastic chairs with the boat owner and his family in the darkened living room of their board house, dining upon coconut bread my family had baked the day before and freshly-made, soft cheese called cuajada. Then, we strung our hammocks in the store room and fell asleep.

The next morning dawned with clear skies. We packed our hammocks and made our way to the river bank, where we picked up the same slow-moving boat and returned to Pearl Lagoon.

…

You might think that the journey I’ve just described to you was a failure. I suppose in one way it was – we were never able to complete the last training, and have had to reschedule it for September or October, when the weather is likely to be drier. We also used a sizeable amount of our grant money purchasing gas that we will not be able to recover. However, I would not call this a failure. Taking trips like these allows me to see new parts of the Pearl Lagoon municipality, meet more of the community members, and spend quality time with my colleagues. This experience has also taught me how valuable this work really is. When our more rural communities become cut off from the rest of the world, we must rely on the community health workers to keep the inhabitants healthy and safe. If our trainings aid them in this work, it is worth every córdoba and every minute we spend bouncing along the lagoon, floating down rivers, riding on horses, and swinging in hammocks.

Oh yeah, and there’s all that fresh cheese.

Word of the week: inundación - flood

The Past Three Months in Numbers

Total Days: 92

Trips to Managua: 4

Trips to Bluefields: 5

Trips to Pueblo Nuevo: 1

Trips to Pedregal: 1 attempted (more on this later)

Approximate Total Kilometers Traveled: 4200

Approximate Total Hours Spent Traveling: 112

Meetings Attended: 14

Presentations Given: 18 (mostly to youth in secondary schools on themes related to sexual and reproductive health)

Youth Group Meetings Held: 4

Trainings Given: 4

Trainings Attended: 2 (one being my final Peace Corps In-Service Training, held a bit after my one year anniversary in service)

Medical Brigades Participated In: 1

Health-Related Community Activities Participated In: 1

Youth Camps Participated In: 1

All this to say…this is why I haven’t posted anything in a while.

Oh the Weather outside is Frightful

Well folks, looks like it’s officially winter here in Pearl Lagoon. Gone are the endless sunny days, the intense heat, and the humidity. Okay, the humidity is still there. But instead of sunshine, we have day after day of monsoon-style rain. Constant, drenching, pounding, unrelenting rain. It is hard to sleep through the night with the heart-stoppingly loud thunder and brilliant displays of lightning. The roads are becoming a muddy mess, the health center is flooding, the bon refuse to rise properly, and the electricity cuts out more frequently. Everything that can mold is molding. It will soon be impossible to travel into and out of Pearl Lagoon overland. At least the toads are happy; every evening we’re treated to a chorus of croaking and chirping from the newly formed pathside ponds. A few tips for surviving the coastal winter:

1. Buy good rain boots and a big umbrella. Despite the potential mocking you may endure for your campesino style, but trust me: embrace the rubber boots, because it’s very unpleasant to have to spend the whole day with wet, dirty, wrinkled toes. A big umbrella is also key; little umbrellas are great for travel, but don’t hold up too well against high winds and torrential downpours.

2. Always be prepared to do laundry. Sunny days may be few and far between. Clothing is not limitless, and there are only so many times one can acceptably wear a shirt or sleep on the same sheets (remember, it’s still pretty warm here). So if the sunshine peeking through your curtains at 5 AM wakes you up, best you jump out of bed and start scrubbing. Sun peek out of the clouds after hours of rain? Head home; it’s laundry time! You never know how the sun will last, and you don’t want to get stuck with half-dry clothes or bedding.

3. Keep that mosquito net up and tucked in. Rainy weather brings more insects. The number of mosquitoes increases exponentially, and other creepy crawlies you might not otherwise see too much will find their way into your home where it is drier. Wear your bug repellent to fend off the blood suckers, cover your water supplies to discourage insect breeding, and keep food in tightly closed containers (though it may not guarantee the protection of your food from smaller ants). Oh, and if a big bad bug happens to expire in your home, don’t worry too much about cleaning up the corpse. There’s a good chance that other creatures living in your house will take care of it sooner or later (remember the scorpion post?).

4. Try not to worry too much about the leaks. It’s inevitable. So try to prepare as best you can, and don’t worry too much about the rest. Make sure your bed isn’t under any holes (or repair the roof the best you can, even if it’s only with duct tape or tarps), keep your things on higher shelves or in drawers, and remember: if your floor gets wet, it’s just a good opportunity to mop – you don’t even have to drag in a bucket of water!

5. Try to find the good. A week of rain can be a real downer. A month (or three) even more so. So try to find the positives, such as… it’s not as hot! The mangos are coming into season! The big growing season has begun – more fruits and vegetables are on their way! It’s an excuse to drink hot chocolate or tea! It’s a good time to get friends together and watch a movie, or curl up with a good book!

6. Don’t visit Nicaragua in June, July, or August. While I would love to see you all, and hope that you one day have a chance to get to know this country, I’d strongly advise waiting to do so until the drier (yet still reasonably cool) months of November through February. Unless you’re a surfer. I hear the waves on the Pacific side aren’t so bad in winter...

Word of the week: lluvia - rain

A Very Very

Happy Father's Day!

Sending my love from Nicaragua today (and every day). Dad, you've been there for me through thick and thin. Thank you!

Miss Marcia’s Special Bon for the Thanksgiving Harvest

If I haven’t mentioned it before, the Atlantic coast of Nicaragua offers some excellent traditional foods. One of my personal favorites is the bon: a sweet, spiced bread. I recently had the pleasure of making bon with Miss Marcia, one of my neighbors and friends here in Lagoon, as she prepared for the Moravian Church’s Thanksgiving harvest. I tried to take notes of the process, which I’m sharing with you today, but keep in mind that most good cooks here don’t really work with a recipe. Make adjustments as you see fit, or just come to the coast to experience them.

Bon – Makes approximately 15 loaves

36 cups of flour

7 cups sugar

1 additional cup browned sugar syrup, mixed with approximately 2 tablespoons vanilla

1 small handful salt

2 handfuls of baking powder

Milk from 3-4 coconuts

2 sticks of margarine

1 cup shortening

4 tablespoons instant yeast

6 tablespoons cinnamon

5 tablespoons anise seeds

Allspice

Nutmeg

Cloves

1-2 cups of raisins and/or candied fruits

FOR GLAZE:

1 cup coconut cream

2-3 tablespoons sugar

Mix together dry ingredients and spices. Stir in browned sugar syrup, then stir in enough coconut milk for the dough to stick together. Knead in the shortening and margarine. Stir in raisins and/or candied fruits, if desired.

Sprinkle flour on a clean surface and knead the dough until it is soft (several minutes). Separate dough into 15 separate balls, and knead each one individually, forming each into a smooth ball. Flatten the ball, pressing any raisins or fruits into the dough. Set aside and let rise. Bake until golden brown.

Mix glaze and brush over the cooled loaves. Allow to dry 20-30 minutes, and then apply a second coat.

A Further Note on Insect Bites

The amount and variety of bites I accumulate from insects on a daily basis astounds me, and has, over time, made me slightly obsessed with repellent. I used to find bites on my body and think to myself, “What bit me? And how did it get there?” After months of observation, I have become something of a connoisseur when it comes to insect bites: how each insect’s bite feels, how each insect’s bite looks, and how long it will last. For example:

I believe everyone is familiar with the bite of the mosquito. You rarely notice a mosquito until it’s too late – if you start to feel a slight itch, the mosquito is most likely finishing its meal. Immediately after, the itch will greatly increase in intensity, and the site of the bite will swell and redden (the amount to which it swells will depend on your level of allergic reaction). If you can resist scratching the bite, it will disappear quickly. Scratching the bite only causes further itching and swelling; if you scratch long enough or hard enough, you can break the skin and cause the bite to become infected with the bacteria living under your nails.

The sand fly is a tiny insect, but its bite packs a punch. Without warning, you will feel a sharp pain, mixed with itchiness. For me, this sensation fades as soon as the insect is removed from the skin and there is no lasting physical evidence. However, I have heard that some people have allergic reactions to this insect bite, and will experience waves of intense itchiness, with small red bumps.

The ant bite, on the other hand, feels like burning. It is extremely painful, and this pain will endure past the removal of the ant – up to an hour or two. The skin will swell slightly and become red. Rubbing alcohol applied directly to the bite will help reduce the pain and swelling.

The flea bite is generally not felt, but evidence of fleas manifest as small, itchy red bumps that can last up to a week on the skin. The fleas themselves can be hard to detect (tiny, jumping, black or brown specks), and nearly impossible to kill without the use of pesticide (even if you are fast enough to catch one, their hard little bodies are nearly impossible to smash with a finger).

As mentioned in the previous post, the yellow fly (also called the red fly, though they are in fact always yellow) leaves quite a mark. You most likely will feel little as the fly bites you, yet the site of the bite may bleed, and it will certainly swell. And turn red. And grow hot. The bite itself will itch a lot. It may even hurt. As with the mosquito bite, refrain from scratching – this will lead to days of unnecessary suffering.

I’ve been lucky enough to avoid run-ins with some of the other blood-sucking insects inhabiting Pearl Lagoon and the rest of Nicaragua.* I’ve been told that the bite of the black fly is even worse than that of the yellow fly, and that grass lice burrow under the skin and break out later, leaving itchy red bumps. There are stories of ticks in more rural areas that, in sufficient quantities, can kill even large animals. I hope I never have to find out if the stories are true. I’ve also seen what bed bugs can do (lines or clusters of small red bites, usually on the extremities or abdominal area), but have been fortunate enough to never have done battle with them.

As I said, I’ve become quite knowledgeable on bites. Yet I still fail, from time to time, to discover the answer to “how did they get there?”

Words of the Week: Los que chupan sangre – those that suck blood, hinchado – swollen, escondido - hidden

*This is not to say that these insects are only found in Nicaragua; there are simply more opportunities to experience them when one lives in homes that are not sealed or even screened in, when wooded areas are not maintained or sprayed with pesticides, and when domestic animals are not treated for fleas or ticks. Nicaragua, however, does have the added benefit (for the insects) of having a consistently warm climate, with forests, jungle, and fresh water sources.