Hambre and other words painted blue

Droning a drowsy syncopated tune, rocking back and forth to a mellow croon, I heard the Blues he played . . .

As I write these words, the clock in Nicaragua is working its way toward midnight and Thursday is fast approaching. It has been one week since my last blog and there are many words to be said. The easiest place to begin is with Friday and the first stroke of blue.

You see, until this point, I had seen the people and their poverty, but nothing pierced me except their joy and their hard work. That changed on Friday, and I ended the day grieving. A week later, there is a lingering ache each time I remember it. The day began like all the rest as we prepared to return to La Conquista for another day of games with the kids in Robin's program. It really was a glorious day of games: puzzles, hula hoop, dominoes, checkers, and jump rope (I taught the Cinderella dressed in yella song and had some very competitive boys who LOVED it, each trying to best the others in how many doctors it would take.) Dance lessons continued with the girls and I was overjoyed when Nikito's family arrived. They love seeing us and the feeling is mutual, but I am all about Emmanuel. Guillermo calls me Emmanuel's "chela" mama. (Chela is another word for gringa.) The day was fine until Emmanuel disappeared while I was playing with some other boys. Now, it is pretty common here to just let the kids walk away whenever they want, even if that means a 6-year-old wandering in the streets, but I am not Nicaraguan, so I was worried. I finally saw him when he peaked his head around the corner from outside and looked directly at me with the saddest eyes I have ever seen. In my general arrogance, I assumed he was upset because I was giving other boys more attention, so I went outside, held him in my lap and told him he was my favorite. It seemed to work for a minute and he returned, but this behavior continued. Each time, I convinced him to come back inside, but he never told me what the problem was. Finally, he answered me, cradling his head in the crook of my neck, he cried and said, "Yo tengo hambre." Literally, I have hunger. I wanted to cry to see that kind of sadness born of a complete lack of food. I told my Nica friends how much it hurt me and they reminded me that "hambre" was a part of every day in Nicaragua and that missing meals was commonplace for all the kids. There was a snack that day for Emmanuel, but it couldn't fill the caverns of hunger within him. Nothing that San Lucas does can stop the hunger, but they are working so hard to bring change. They are great people fighting an impossible battle against an invisible foe.

. . . In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone, I heard him sing, heard the piano moan . . .

The weekend brought rest and a little vacation, but the look in Emmanuel's eyes was not erased by the tide. The gray skies that cast an ominous shadow on the ocean all day as we relaxed at Playa Mango Rosa seemed a fitting bass line for the song that danced in my head. Don't get me wrong, there was something hypnotically beautiful about the waves that crashed ashore as the sun set behind craggy rocks that jutted into the Pacific Ocean. I enjoyed every minute of it (especially the Mahi sandwich that found its way into my belly that day), and I left our Saturday beach outing with a content heart, but there is just something beneath the surface of it all. I can't describe what I am experiencing, because it is so new to me. It is like there is music playing, notes that I don't recognize but that have always been there. It is a song that is jubilant and freeing in its expression of living, all at once beautiful and mournful. It is as if the whole world is singing the blues.

I have always loved the blues. They represent something truly beautiful to me. Singing the blues has always been about freeing your soul, unloading your suffering, and finding healing. One of my favorite short stories is called "Sonny's Blues". I think that I love this story so much because it is one of delicate hope, birthed from music. Sonny is able to escape his heroin habit through the piano. The instruments "speak" to each other without words and things are made whole when others listen to the story Sonny tells through his music. I believe that we are those who listen, and that if we will hear the world, hear its song, the way that grief bespeaks grief and love bespeaks love like so many instruments, then the world will begin to heal. I carry with me a delicate hope.

Sunday was all about rest, a true Sabbath. We relaxed and napped and relaxed and napped and then went to church with the family that night. So Sunday left little to be told, but Monday brought Ometepe. The island of Ometepe was our real vacation, two days on a gorgeous island with two ginormous volcanoes, in the middle of a lake big enough to have its own tide. This lake is the only fresh-water lake in the world with sharks and it was beautiful. My hotel room had a beach side window and I slept and woke to the gentle sounds of waves lapping against the shore. We explored a nature preserve, swam in a perfect spring and watched the sun set at the Western-most point of the island. The next morning we went to see petroglyphs and then caught the ferry back to the mainland. It was a perfect few days spent with great kids and the ever mirthful Guillermo. Oh, how we love Guillermo! A few words must now be written about this wonderful man. Guillermo has been our appointed driver for the majority of the trip. He has been our chauffeur, our GPS (in a country where no streets have names or numbers) and our friend. He makes us laugh, tries to remember our English names, calls Jon "Chino" and bats his impossible eyelashes "como un caballo" at us. There is such light in his eyes, that his "blue" word had its own luminescence. You see, Guillermo has a giant scar on his head (which is easy to see since he is bald) and the kids have wondered about it but been afraid to ask. On Monday night, as we sat down to dinner at Finca Santa Domingo with sound of waves in the background, Guillermo handed us a letter and walked away. The bluest word on the page was "tumor". Guillermo had been struggling with a tumor and ensuing radiation for years and is, even now, waiting on more results. He wrote about the hope God had given him and how the doctors had said three times that he would not live, but that he had three times defied them. He wrote about his love for his wife of 13 years and his daughters and how he wanted to continue to be with them. He wrote about his joy and his peace and the love for God that he had in his heart. In the midst of it, words like cancer and tumor began to mean little. His "blue" was like the brightness of the sky made brighter by the sun. He was saying that shadows exist, but they create no darkness of their own. Shadows are only powerful if you hide in them. Guillermo is no hider.


Thump, thump, thump went his foot on the floor. He played a few chords then he sang some more.

That brings me to today (or yesterday as the case may be). Today was a celebration of the new community center in La Conquista. It was a happy day and we saw all of the kids one last time *tear* before we left and spent time with Anke, the German implant, at the library she and her husband started. They are doing great work in literacy and education within the community of Diriamba and hoping to expand. When the library closed, Anke took us back to her house for fresh-baked German cake (AMAZING!) and Nica coffee. It was a perfectly lovely afternoon (and I would have so much more to say about Anke and her family if there were any energy left in me). Throw in a soccer game and a very late dinner and the night was complete.

This week has been so dichotomous for me. It has been restful and mind-emptying, while filled, at the same time, with questions that can never be answered. It has been bright and full of joy, and it had been peppered with blue. I know I am better for it, and I know, now, that the bluest word of them all is adios. It swirls around me in shades of navy and indigo and wraps me in its blueness. Blues singer Alberta Hunter once said, "We sing the blues because our hearts have been hurt, our souls have been disturbed." On the surface, this seems a statement of pain, but I don't see it that way. Merriam Webster says that to disturb is to alter the position or arrangement of something. Nicaragua has altered the arrangement of my soul. These people have disturbed my understanding of the world in beautiful notes saturated with color and hope and laughter and a little sadness. Tonight, I am a Picasso, and yes, Alberta, my heart does hurt a little as I prepare to leave this exquisite country.

. . . and late into the night, he crooned that tune. The stars went out and so did the moon.

Gringa! Gringa!

I am glad to report that all five of the kids are healthy now. Nick was the holdout. He stayed sick for three days. While he remained in bed waiting for the earth to end or his stomach to cooperate, we worked hard. Tuesday's work was, by far, the hardest I have ever done. We continued planting las frutas, but we also had to plant hardwood trees to reforest an area that was destroyed by fire. I am pretty sure that I single-handedly planted 100-200 cedar trees. Child's play! Oh wait, did I mention that we were planting on the side of a mountain? The Nicaraguans would have certainly laughed at the name "mountain" for this hill, but for a Florida girl, this was, in fact, a mountain. While I love mountain climbing, I have never before done it while carrying little trees. My first job was digging holes, but I broke the tool, snapped the steel in half at the welding. The Nicaraguan men all commented on my fuerza, but relegated me to tree carrying and planting all the same ;)The earth was so dry that I slid constantly, cascading dirt on anyone who had the audacity (or lack of foresight) to stand below me. I only really slid a few times. The danger was minimal . . . but then there was the cacao.

You must understand that planting cacao is a whole different ball of wax. We planted the cacao up the walls of what could have only been called a ravine with a small river running through it. The strong men and women (these abuelitas could take you any day) carried in dozens upon dozens of cacao seedlings and placed them at the river bank. Then, one sack at a time, I carried them up to the hole-making crew. I could only carry about 10 at a time and still safely climb to where they were high above me, but apparently that was impressive. It wasn't until later that I realized that there was a man there who could have carried them up for me to plant. But I like to work hard, and they liked talking about me working hard while they rested from hole digging. There were 4 men on my team, and every time I brought up a load, they gestured and commented and laughed heartily at my lack of understanding. I must defend myself here. My understanding of Spanish is quite good if you are patient enough to speak slowly. But the people in Banco, as a rule, have poor dental hygiene, so they are missing a lot of teeth. Add to that their dialect and pronunciation, and it is no wonder I was lost. In fact, I was pretty sure by the end of it that I was being offered in marriage to a man named Nikito, no front teeth. On Wednesday, I met Nikito's wife and EIGHT children and my heart was at peace. They are not big believers in polygamy here!

The day was extremely hard and extremely rewarding. When I got home, I was stricken with feverish cold and such tiredness that it consumed me. Not gonna lie, I was a little concerned. Thankfully, my hosts are doctors, and they treated me with a liter of a FOUL electrolyte solution that nearly made me gag, but left me feeling better in the morning. The diagnosis: too much sun . . kinda hard to avoid. I reapply sunscreen 4-5 times a day and I am still una gringa roja. Oh well :)

Wednesday was more planting, but back on flat land. It was actually a really easy day in comparison, especially because it started to rain and we quit a little early. Unfortunately, the rain did not last. Instead of working, we spent a few hours with some of the 14 families of Banco de Tierra who had come to have lunch with us. They had dressed in their best clothes and looked perfectly lovely. I fell in love with Nikito's family, especially his only son (out of 8), Emmanuel, age 6. Oh my goodness, I adore this kid. He spent hours on my lap imitating my every move and facial expression while "teaching" me Spanish words that I pretended not to know. When I walked, he followed me. When I sat, my lap was occupied. His whole family was loving and gentle. I developed a special tenderness for Flora, the oldest at 19, who was quiet and shy, but always wanted to know when she would see me again. Johana, 16, was pure joy, laughing and smiling at everything, eager to learn words in English. These are a simple and happy people and I am more in love with them each day. It is hard to imagine, given how much we have in America in comparison, that anyone could ever be unhappy and sour. They would say that God has given them a song. It is one I am starting to hear in my sleep, and I am happy for it.

Today was a break from planting. In fact, we are done with planting. When lunch finally arrived yesterday, it was a celebration of everything we had accomplished. They said we had planted 1000 trees in 3 days. WOW! With our work done there, we moved on to a sports program with the kids of La Conquista. It was a brilliant day of playing sports and teaching kids a few words of English. And even though I got more sunburn, it was great to work with these kids who are mostly uneducated and likely to get in trouble if left with nothing to do. Cue Robin, the German volunteering with this program for 2 years. He is a great soccer player, full of good humor, and obviously in good with these kids. After spending the morning in La Conquista, we returned (with much joy) to the home of Nikita. His kids screamed with joy, as did all the others of the community. "Gringas, gringas!" Emmanuel came springing into my arms and all the world was well. People poured from the doors of what would only be termed shacks in America, but which, here, are the homes of which they are so proud. I, too, am proud, proud that I have added even a little joy to their lives.

Reclining once again in my adopted hammock, listening to singing (mostly off key) at the church across the large field beside me, I am humbled. I am so blessed to be a part of this adventure, so blessed to have been given this opportunity, and so aware of the wealth of my own life. Tonight, I will sleep with the music of laughter and the song of the Nicaraguan people as my lullaby.

The chickens are revolting and the sky is dry

It is now Tuesday and we have had a great time so far. Saturday, we spent a lot of time just relaxing and looking at the lay of the land on the beautiful orchard that serves as our temporary home. It is a really great set-up. The five kids are in a house adjoining Francisco and Reyna's, where I am. They have just enough space to not feel me breathing down their necks, and I am oft peacefully unaware that they are here. I spend as much of my free time as possible in the hammock, which should be no surprise to anyone who knows me! The dogs have become my friends, and Tommy and Lukito often lie on the ground next to me while I hammock chill. The chickens strut around them and the mangoes continue their drum beat as the fall from the trees. It's a little piece of paradise. As for the pesky rooster, I gave him the teacher stare and he has abandoned my window. We have made peace, the chickens and I. The girls, however, are not so lucky. I believe they spoke ill of the chickens one morning and the chickens heard. It is full-scale mutiny. Every morning at 3 or 4am, the girls are awakened by the chickens holding revival services. Last night, I gave them earplugs. It is only 6am here, but when they awake, I hope for a good report.

Yesterday, we stated our work here. It was a hot day and we had a lot of planting to do, but we started with a meeting at the office for the San Lucas Foundation where we met the staff and had devotion. Devotion was led by a young German man named Robin. He seemed adorably awkward presenting his lesson to us all, but he did well and in beautiful Spanish. (I hope that I get to spend some time with him to practice my German a little.) The lesson he taught us from 2 Peter was about the importance of exemplifying concepts like "brotherly love" and "compassion" when we work with the people of Banco. Reyna reminded us that compassion and pity are not the same things and that we must not look on them with pity. This is a good lesson for me, but also for the kids. Most of them have never seen this kind of poverty and, while I have only seen it once in Peru, I feel like I am a little more prepared for what we see. Still, my heart hurts a little each time we pass a child standing shoeless in the doorway in what could only be called dilapidated shack, but here masquerades as a house.

These are a strong people. They work hard and for little to no pay. In Banco de Tierra, where we work, the people are learning to establish sustainable crops, so they help in the ground preparation and the planting. It is not a project of the Foundation, it is a project of the whole community. They take pride in their work and they do it well. I was glad to be able to work alongside them yesterday and glad to do it again today. I felt that we did so little, but such a little dent in the work yesterday. We probably only planted 100 trees of the 1100 we purchased, so there is much more work to be done.

And, truthfully, yesterday was a difficult day in a way. Two of the five kids got sick, one with nausea, and one stomach cramping and vomiting. For me, this meant a lot of concern for and taking care of the kids and less working. I wanted to be working, but so did they. It was difficult. Today, I am going to ask them for complete honesty before we leave (they didn't say yesterday because they wanted to work) and will require them to stay behind if they are still sick. It is far too difficult for them to be out in the field, isolated from medical care should they need it. I want them to be safe, and I understand the need of the people to work at a fast pace in order to complete all the work set before them. I think the kids will feel better though.

The biggest thing we need here is rain. The skies remain dry over Banco, and with all the new plants, rain is desperately needed. Without it, the people must bring in huge tanks of water, gathered at a local lake/river and pour it one liter at a time over the new plants. It is tedious work, especially considering that the transport for the water is provided by two rather stubborn bulls pulling a cart. They are comedic to watch, but surely frustrating to those trying to steer.

All in all, a great day. Pray for rain. Pray for health. And pray for the cooperation of those darn chickens!! :) More soon.

There's a rooster outside my window!

Day one in Nicaragua comes with promise and lots of noise. I am staying in a beautiful house with Francisco (who tells me that I may speak no English while here but also lies and says my Spanish is good)and Reyna. Their daughter, Davitha has given me her room and is rooming with her brother, Levi. I was awakened by the sound of a very insistent rooster perched right outside my open window, trucated by the deep thud of mangos hitting the roof as they fall from the trees all around us. Good thing I am an early riser anyway!

I took advantage of the cool morning hours to expore while the rest of the house slept. Immediately, the dogs took a liking to me, hanging at my heels and nuzzling me for attention. The mangoes are EVERYWHERE! They pepper the ground like New Year's Eve confetti in Times Square, but so much more delicious. The air is cool, but I am aware of impending heat and impending rain hanging in the atmosphere.

Our host families live in a beautiful huerta, yet I sense that, outside these gates, the world of Jinotepe is very different. It was so dark when we came in that I could see little, but the eyes are not always the keenest organ (especially mine!) and I know that I am in a different world. The policemen who were hitchhiking and the boy who climbed on a semi truck to wash his windows, unsolicited, for money tell us that we are not in Kansas anymore. But it is greater than that. Sounds and smells all converge to communicate the differnece here. The kids were stricken by that fact almost immediately, and we sat around the table eating rice pudding, surrounded by Nora's family, talking about those first impressions. I am glad that they get to have this experience, but I am more glad that they have made me a part of it. They are great kids and this is going to be a breathtaking journey for us all.

Today, we will buy seeds and other supplies for Banco de Tierra. Let the adventure begin!

This is the end, beautiful friend, the end

These words are running through my head this morning. They are from a song by The Doors that I don't actually recommend (kinda violent, although full of Freudian idealism - think Oedipus complex). The song, however, does go on to say, "And all the children are insane; all the children are insane, waiting for the summer rain, YEAH!" I totally agree with that. Some of you are just crazy right now!!! We have come to the inevitable conclusion of another year and I am glad to have shared it with you. I know that I have, for many of you, pushed the limits of what you believed you could capably do. I hope that you rose to the occasion. I hope you leave here full of knowledge. I have loved sharing that knowledge with you. (And I sincerely apologize for being a blog slacker!!!)

The last blog post that I wrote refused to post and then magically disappeared into cyberspace where some drone is probably feeding on it. This is what happens with lost digital material. I am sure of it. So, having appropriately mourned the loss of good verbiage, I feel ready to move forward and spew more glorious word content into the cyber-universe ;)

I know that most of you are little interested in what I have to ramble about and more interested in the extra credit as the year winds down, but let me remind you that extra credit does you little good if you don't turn in your assignments. You all need to make sure that you have turned in at least PART of your Their Eyes Were Watching God paragraphs/essays and your Across the Universe worksheet. These are worth a total of 280-330 (honors) points, and no 40 pt EC will make up for their absence. You will, of course earn late credit, but TUESDAY, MAY 31 is the last day that I will take ANY work from ANYONE! This includes your Lay that Trumpet in Our Hands questions and character guide, which are worth another 200 points and will be due on Tuesday.

1. Consider carefully every character we have read about this year. Choose one character with whom you most identify. Explain who the character is (making sure to include the name of the text in which he/she appears) and then, in a separate paragraph, clearly explain why you chose that character and what you think you have in common. You may receive up to 20 points of EC for this if it is well-written.
2. If you have the ability to burn a CD, make a 5-10 song CD of either Civil Rights Protest music (or music related to it but written later - think Motel in Memphis, which is about the murder of MLK, Jr.) OR Vietnam War protest music (think Woodstock - War, huh, good God, what is it good for?) Make sure that you either put it in a case and design a cover or write all of the song titles and your name on the CD itself. Please include artist names as well. You may receive up to 40 points of EC.
3. Write a biography entirely in your own words of EITHER Sheriff Willis McCall or Walter Lee Irvin. This should be a brief summary of their lives focusing on pivotal events in the 1950s and what happened in the aftermath of the "Florida Terror." (There are some great YouTube videos that might interest you. Take whatever information you would like from them as well, just put it in your own words.) One page minimum. You may receive up to 45 points of EC.
4. This essay is related to Their Eyes Were Watching God. Defend (agree with) or refute (disagree with) the following statement: Death is a positive force in Janie's life because it always results in a positive new beginning. Discuss your answer in relation to a) Nanny's death, b) Joe's death, c) Tea Cake's death. Make sure to include for each one a discussion of who the character is in Janie's life, how they died, and how it was or was not a positive event for her. This should be a five paragraph essay. I will be strict with awarding points, but you can earn up to 75 points EC.

Have fun!!!!

Spring Break Extra Credit!

In about 5 minutes, I am leaving to pedal to St. Augustine. I am have a little trepidation about the ride, but I am super excited. Sorry it has taken me so long to post this. Here it is!

Find the story "Like a Winding Sheet" by Ann Petry online. Either print it or read it online. Write a response to the following question after reading.

Why is the symbolism of the winding sheet so important to the story and how does the man become more symbolically wrapped up in it as the day progresses to its eventual, tragic end?

Your response should use specific examples from the story and be at least 1 page long. This extra credit is worth up to 60 points, but that is only for superior work, so try hard to be excellent. Blue or black ink. No torn edges on the pages. Be neat! Please title the assignment, "Like a Winding Sheet" Extra Credit.

Have fun and enjoy the rest of your break!

Supermoon, superfood, supertramp?

You may have heard, if you're alive, that last Saturday we experienced a phenomena called "super moon". What this basically means is that the moon was really big and closer to the earth than it had been in 18 years. Weird people who predict things predicted that the world would basically fall apart thanks to said moon. It is now Tuesday. I am alive. I hope that you are also. Thus, epic FAIL on the part of those who talk so much and know so little. I, for one, never believed that the world would tip sideways or the oceans would split or all my students would turn into monsters . . . wait. . . maybe I believed that one! You see, I used this really basic thing called reasoning. This was the biggest the moon had been in 18 years, not the biggest ever. So it follows (to those who reason) that if catastrophe waited on the heels of giant sky orbs, then it should have all gone to hell 18 years ago. That's just my thinking!

Still, the SUPERmoon did cause one seismic shift - Joshua and Israel Roe entered Gainesville! The significance of this statement depends largely upon who you are. If you are one of my students, this is probably pretty exciting news. If you are anyone else, I expect a response somewhere along the lines of "Joshua who?" or "big deal." Oh, it is a big deal. :) While these boys coming to town may not satisfy anyone's 2012-esque longings, they are bound to shake up something. Tomorrow, that starts with my students.

Joshua Roe is perhaps one of the coolest guys I know. When I met him a little over a year ago, he shook my world view. I hope that I also shook his, because that is what friends do - they challenge and push, they stretch and they pull, they make us stronger and support us when we are weak. It was Joshua who told me to go, to experience, to live with less fear and less caution. I was never a particularly cautious girl, so this could have been a risky thing, but I got it. There are all sorts of ways that we hold back our own living, all kinds of fear that keep us exactly where we are. To put it simply, his message to me was most people never LIVE, so don't be a "most". I heard him loud and clear and I began to find the tethers that held me in place. Joshua's message isn't that everyone everywhere should leave their lives and travel the planet (although he would find that pretty cool), rather, his message is that if you embrace where you are as your end, then you will miss a whole lot of journey. That means different things for different people, but there IS a message for everyone. I love this message. I am proud that he's my friend. I count him now as one of my favorite people in the world.

And now he's here, the myth, the man, the . . . biker. He and his little brother Israel arrived with the supermoon into my little neck of the woods. They left San Diego, CA on January 9th, and on March 19th, they pedaled into Ft. White, FL where I met up with them. They were tired, but they were in excellent spirits and it was great to see each other after months of separation. One of the first questions that I asked them was, "Are you guys hungry?" When they were finally able to silence their laughing, they said, "That's a joke, right? We've been hungry for two months!" So I cooked and cooked some more. Then we cooked and shared meals with great people. My house has been a whirlwind of activity, but we are happy and their bellies are full - mine too as Joshua is a great cook. It has been a great reunion and I have loved the commotion of my house.

Still, sometimes, sneaking away onto the front porch swing is a great prospect because it offers a tiny bit of quiet. That is where I am now, happily typing away while sitting on my porch swing and listening to man in the house next door yell a little too loudly. There is also a woman down the street who is probably homeless and is yelling about pills that she may or may not have in her purse. So it isn't exactly peaceful like a mountaintop here (the last time I saw Joshua, we were climbing peaceful mountains) but it is a cool, brisk night and a lovely end to a good day. As I write this, Joshua is out having some strange procedure done that will leave him with big welty marks but feeling great, and Israel is inside finishing up a movie. I feel at ease and happy just knowing that they are both around and that we have more time together.

And tomorrow, they will be at school. This is good. I am very excited to see what they have to offer my students and how much more I will learn from them as well. Seriously, Joshua must know everything. I want to play stump the supertramp, but alas, he would win. I will think of something. No worries. Don't forget, I have an 80 mile bike ride ahead. Lots of stumping time! I can't wait to share my amazing friend and his dear brother with all of my students.

Extra Credit soon to come. One more for Spring Break!!!!