Perspective, More Family Trouble, and Sean Taylor

I am beginning to realize that living and working with the poor in Nicaragua is hard not because of the actual, physical work we do, but because of the inescapable questions we face as a result of the advantageous lot we’ve been cast. I only spend time “working” with the kids for about 2 hours each day, but the impact of my time lasts long past saying goodbye. Each afternoon I am mentally and emotionally exhausted, both from trying to control a group of rowdy kids and trying to come to grips with the existence of such harsh poverty and struggles. From this I often spend the late afternoons reflecting and writing about questions like, “Am I really helping?” and, “Now that I’ve been exposed to this poverty, how should my life change?”

Today brought forth more examples of such questions. I met the kids on the corner, as usual, and our group of 8 went to Pollo Campero again. Today we ate outside, which was good because it made the cleanup from our mess much easier. The kids ran around and played on the jungle gym, stopping occasionally to take a bite of fried chicken. They seemed to enjoy themselves.

While the younger kids were playing I had a chance to talk to Ninoska, the oldest girl. She told me that the families were still having trouble. Although my understanding is severely hindered by my lack of Spanish skills, I think Ninoska told me that the problems were actually getting worse.

I agreed to visit their house on Monday, so that should certainly be interesting. I hope it doesn’t cause any more drama.

After lunch I distributed all of the girls’ clothes which were generously donated. The ongoing family rivalry made itself known when Ninoska asked if she could receive her clothes up the street, away from the girls from the other family. I gave Sonia, Joselyn, and the baby girl her clothes and then started walking up to meet Ninoska and Stephanie (definitely spelled differently) with theirs.

Sonia walked with me and then, peering into my bag, asked why I had given more to Ninoska. I responded that all of the bags had an equal amount of clothes, to which she called me a liar. That was really hard to hear. I will admit that I was slightly upset because of her ingratitude, but the majority was derived from the obvious problems present between the two families. The last thing I want to do is cause more trouble.

I talked with Adbhie and Keren today – we are going to have dinner on Sunday and discuss the next step in helping the kids get into school. Hopefully we can build off of the progress we made together before I left.

On a completely unrelated note, I have been thinking a lot about Sean Taylor, the Redskins player who was tragically murdered this week. I am so upset by his passing, much like I was when the Broncos’ Darrent Williams was murdered last year. I don’t have any eloquent words to express my emotions. It’s just quite sad. I hope that the media, and the American public, doesn’t immediately jump to conclusions about causes for Taylor’s attack just because he is young, black, rich, and famous. What a tragedy.

A Return to the Kiddies

I caught a taxi to Metrocentro today, since I didn’t want to carry my big bag of clothes on the bus, in order to meet the kids for lunch. I was kind of nervous, I think because I was afraid something would have changed while I was gone. When I got there the kids ran up and greeted me, quickly calming my nerves and assuring me that we could pick up right where we left off.

Somehow the group seemed to expand in my absence, as 11 kids were ready and waiting today. Although it’s so hard to do, I initially told them I couldn’t take everyone out to lunch. They responded by saying the newcomers would only play, and not eat, to which I caved and said they could come.

We broke tradition and, at the kids’ request, ate at Pollo Campero (a KFCish restaurant), about 2 blocks from Metrocentro. This turned out to be a wonderful development, as Pollo Campero had a jungle gym, thus allowing the kids to entertain themselves and run around out there instead of inside, like they usually do in Metrocentro. They played outside while I ordered a couple huge family meals.

The lunch started out on a trying note when four of the kids managed to spill their drinks, two on me, within the first 5 minutes of their arrival. They were surprisingly well-behaved during the division of the chicken and, for the most part, during the meal, though. The downside of such a large group is I was more of a manager than a dining companion. However, I’m glad so many kids could come.

After we ate the kids played in the play area or drew pictures with me at the table. The staff at Pollo Campero was very receptive and hospitable, allowing us to stay although we were surely bothering other customers purely as a result of putting 11 street kids in a restaurant setting.

We then went back to their street corner and I handed out all boys’ clothes all of you have so generously donated over the last few months. They were so excited! Tomorrow I’ll bring the girls’ clothes, I couldn’t carry both sets today – a good problem to have! I also gave the mothers a huge bottle of chewable vitamins for each family, which were also donated. I felt poorly that I didn’t have clothes for the newcomers, but you all were so generous that there are more clothes waiting in my attic to be delivered next time we have visitors.

Spending time with the kids today was personally very relieving. I had such a wonderful time at home that I struggled with getting back into the Nicaraguan groove yesterday afternoon and this morning. After today’s lunch, though, I know that I am supposed to be here and am happy to see what happens with the kids. I know that although there are sad times when I miss home tremendously; there are also times here when I see God in each of the kids I work with. It’s the latter times, and the amazing support you have given us, which provide me motivation to keep going.

Much love,
dw

Back in Town

We’re back! Lauren and I arrived safely here in Managua this afternoon after spending last night in Miami with our dear friend Denis. We loved touring Denis’ office, going out for a Cuban dinner, and catching up in his apartment. We spent the evening with him during our initial trip down here in September (although it was due to a missed connection!) so we’re glad it’s becoming a tradition of sorts.

We arrived to sun, mild weather, and an apartment without running water or internet. Shockingly, both our water and internet were restored within 20 minutes after a phone call with the cable company and a chat with the man who works for our apartment complex. Lauren and I then took a trip to the grocery store and restocked our barren pantry.

Although I am excited to get back and see the kids again, it was quite hard to leave home yesterday. Spending 12 days with family and friends reminded me of the amazing life I have at home. It’s funny that I had to travel to Nicaragua to find out how good I have it in Baltimore. I know that I am committed to helping these kids and earnestly want to see this sponsorship program idea through to the end, whether in success or failure. All of this being said, it is good to be back.

We’re heading out to the little restaurant up the street for dinner since we are about to lose power and don’t want to eat in the dark tonight. Hopefully Lauren and I will have interesting items to report as we return to our kids tomorrow!

Much love to you all,

dw

"Home"

Well, I realize that Dylan has already posted a blog for this evening, but in light of our approaching departure tomorrow morning – I thought it would only be appropriate for me to return to the blog.

It’s difficult to believe that we have been here for over a month and a half – even harder to believe that we will be returning to the states for a bit tomorrow. Nicaragua has begun to feel a bit like “a home.” I have definitely adjusted to the steady hum of routine and settled into my life down here; granted, that’s not to say that I do not miss my life at home – just that I have come to accept and embrace my life in Nicaragua.

My time in Nicaragua has been nothing short of endless blessings, personal struggles and self-growth. It is not possible to put a value on the time I have spent down here so far – only to say that the experiences I have been through and the relationships I have established with the children at the orphanage have far surpassed any expectations I might have had.

I have had the opportunity to build some amazing relationships with the fourteen children at the orphanage, but it’s hard to describe any of them. I have grown to love and admire each of the children – but in different ways. I have had the opportunity to grow with many of the children, and experience new things with each of them. A couple of weeks ago, Ismael, a five-year old, broke his arm in three places while playing at school. I took him to the hospital and sat with him while his arm was set and re-set (without any anesthetics). I have never witnessed such bravery in such a small boy. Baby Kevin said his first words to me almost a month ago – “mama.” Every day he waits by the front window, waiting for me to arrive and claps his hands screaming “mama, mama” over and over again until I pick him up so he can give me a kiss on the cheek. He’s grown so much since I first arrived. He is now learning how to feed himself – but pretends that he does not know how so that he is still allowed to sit in my lap at lunchtime. Dayana, a little five year old girl who was abused since she was two or three has slowly come out of her shell – every day she spends more and more time with the group of us and has even begun to sit in my lap and let me braid her hair…

Despite my initial belief that I would be spending the majority of my time teaching them – I find that very little time is spent teaching, while the majority of my time is spent nurturing and loving. The children and I have settled into a steady routine – only interrupted by punishments directed their way from the orphanage director. Like today for example: It was my last day before heading back to the states for a bit – and I wanted to bring a treat to the kids. Dylan and I have been saving my Pooh Bear birthday piñata for a special occasion – so I decided to bring it in to the orphanage. First, you must realize the struggle I went through to bring Pooh safely to the orphanage. Pooh is at least half my size – and an awkward animal to carry. As I lugged him from our apartment to the street – his head in one hand and his body hugged to mine with the other – I believe that every Nicaraguan member of our neighborhood came outside to watch me – as if I were a one-person parade or something. It was rather embarrassing. But, I don’t blame them for laughing at me. Anyways, once I arrived at the orphanage – with Pooh Bear safely intact, Olga – the director of the orphanage – told me that the piñata would have to be put away. Apparently all of the children were being bad today. So, as punishment, the piñata was locked inside of a room by the window – where the children could watch it all day long, just taunting them. In addition, I was advised that the children were not allowed to dance, sing, listen to music, watch tv, color, play with blocks, play with any toys, or go outside. Oh, and that they had to write the numbers 1 to 1000 in their notebooks as well as each letter of the alphabet 100 times each. Can you imagine such a punishment? I was shocked. I tried to plead on their behalf. Then on my behalf. But Olga won. So, I spent my last day at the orphanage attempting to be “stern” and making sure that the children were doing as directed. Basically, this resulted in my causing many of the children to be further punished – as I couldn’t help but laugh at many of them or help playing a few games. So – we spent a bit of “time out” in the bedrooms too.

As a farewell to me the children showered me with their English progress. They lined up and counted for me – the numbers one through ten – in English. This is a big feat mind you, as we have been working on this for over a month – and they have been struggling. Today was the first day that any of them have successfully counted to ten on their own. I am not sure I have ever been so proud…my heart swells just thinking about it.

I am excited to be returning home tomorrow – to see my friends and family. But, at the same time, I am struggling at the thought of leaving these children behind. All along I have been working with these kids assuming that I would be helping them and providing them some love and support. But, in reality – they have become a part of my family; they have taught me about love and brought me such joy. So, tomorrow I will be returning home to my family – but, at the same time, I will be leaving behind a big group of family as well…

If yesterday was a major low point, then today was a significant high one

This morning was one of those mornings when one wakes up and is partly afraid to get out of bed because of the day’s potential difficulties. Although I was legitimately very excited about the possibility of working out a way to get the kids into a school, many substantial challenges stood in front of us. Besides, I didn’t know whether the kids are in school already, since I heard contradictory reports from Sonia’s father and the American donors. I prayed this morning that God would use me to do his will in this situation, and not allow myself to get caught up in how “successful” our day was.

The day started out about as poorly as I could have imagined. My friend Keren and I were only able to find Sonia’s parents, which was a big disappointment since I wanted to talk with both mothers at the same time to prevent any miscommunications.

Our conversation started out fine, as Sonia’s parents thanked me for my help. Next, though, they told me they thought it would be best if I stopped taking the kids out to lunch since I had caused some drama between the two mothers. I had Keren tell them that while I recognized the problems between the families, I didn’t want them to supercede the kids’ welfare in importance, although I would grant their wish if they really wanted me to.

At this point Sonia’s mother, Karla, asked to speak with us alone. I found it odd that she would want to talk with us without her husband, but quickly realized why when she told us that the father is a drunk and spends all of their money on alcohol. She said that they aren’t married but live together and have had all of the kids together.

Keren and I had talked prior to today’s meeting about the best possible approach to take in offering to help pay for the kids to attend school. We decided it would be best to lay out our plan to both mothers at the same time, so we went with Sonia’s mother and the mother of two other kids who I spent time with as well to see Ana Patricia, Ninoska’s mother.

The conversation with the two mothers went quite well. Keren explained to them that we want to start a sponsorship program in which friends and family from the US can partner with these two families and send the kids to school. Keren asked the mothers to pick a school which they preferred for their kids. It turns out that Carlos and Kevin, Ninoska’s two brothers, attend the school whose director and donors I met yesterday. Sonia and her three siblings do not currently attend school. This cleared up the issue of whether the kids attend school or not.

Ana Patricia likes the school her two kids (Carlos and Kevin) go to, which I think is great since it is literally right across the street from their house. She said that this sponsorship program would allow her to send Ninoska back to school, and also allow her family to save the small, but very important, amount of money they spend on school for Carlos and Kevin.

Karla is not too fond of this school and chose another school nearby. She also thought this was a better choice because it would also give Sonia and Ninoska some space, since they don’t always get along.

In addition to paying for school, Keren had the great idea of offering a reward of $25/month worth of food for the parents to send their kids to school. It makes sense, since the kids earn money for the family on the street, that we should compensate the family for their lost income and give them an incentive for sending them to school. The moms approved of this deal, even agreeing to get receipts to prove the money is being used for food.

In addition, the mother of two other kids I’ve been spending time with, Josselyn and Jonathan, agreed to this deal as well. This brings the total to 9 kids. Very exciting!

The trip to their neighborhood was quite beneficial. I really enjoyed seeing Ninoska’s house, meeting her dad, checking out their school, and getting a better feel for their lives. The house, made of cinder blocks and scraps of metal, is very small. I’m not sure how they fit the parents, three older kids, and a baby in there. I was really touched when Ana Patricia showed me a letter I wrote to Ninoska on the wall of her house.

I am so glad the moms could put aside their differences in order to talk about helping their kids. Although we didn’t work out the specifics I am so encouraged that the moms agreed to the deal in principle.

Many of you have contacted us with very generous offers to help. Hopefully this sponsorship program will become a real possibility. I’ll certainly keep you all posted when we figure out some more details.

After talking with the moms we went back to Metrocentro where I met the kids for lunch. All nine of us crowded around a few tables we put together and enjoyed one last meal from Tip-Top.

Afterwards we went to the “Fun House,” which is an arcade in the mall. The kids were out-of-control excited and I quickly realized I was completely unable to manage them. We spent about an hour there, most of which I was being dragged around by jumping, smiling children speaking much faster than I could ever hope to understand, wanting me to swipe the card which allowed them to play the games they wanted. It was intense but definitely lots of fun. The only way I could get them to leave was to offer to ice cream, which was another hit.

Saying goodbye was tough, but in a good way. We made some major strides today in our relationships and I think this depth will be reflected in how excited I will be to see them again when I return after our brief trip back to the States. I was so glad that the kids had a fun last day devoid of drama. They deserved it after the troubles we’ve had the past few days.

It’s amazing how attached I’ve become to kids whom I’ve really only known for about a month and have immense trouble communicating with. They really are beautiful children who have just been born into circumstances far more difficult than I could ever imagine.

Ok, that’s all for now. The blog will likely be dormant for some time as we’ll both be home until Nov. 28^th, although there is a rumor that Lauren might save you from having to constantly read my writing sometime soon…

Thank you so much for all of the support we’ve gotten throughout this first leg of our adventure. It’s been so wonderful for us to receive so much love and encouragement. Even by just reading this blog you are supporting us much more than you will ever know. We’ve both been so blessed by family and friends throughout the last 7.5 weeks and can’t wait to return home to thank you all in person.

Much love,

dw

More Confusion

When I woke up this morning I felt like I was getting into a little groove here in Nicaragua. In a country full of surprises I had established a loose daily routine of Spanish class, lunch and time with the kids, and back home to write before dinner. This sense of familiarity took a major blow today, when I was faced with a couple situations for which I felt completely unprepared.

After class, as always, I walked to meet the kids in front of Metrocentro. Seven kids came today. Initially everything seemed fine, but even before we made it to the parking lot Ninoska and Sonia started screaming at each other while I tried, in vain, to diffuse the situation. My limited Spanish becomes virtually nonexistent when I am nervous, anxious, or pretty much anywhere but sitting in class, so I resorted to using English. They stopped for a bit but were clearly still livid at each other.

When we reached the parking lot a skinny, dirty man approached and asked me, in English, if I was with an organization. He then proceeded to tell me that he is HIV-Positive and trying to raise money to pay the rent for 85 HIV and AIDS patients who are getting evicted from their residences. The man, named Henry, had lived in the States for some years so he spoke English fairly well. He told me that the government has been giving them trouble and that they had nowhere to go. He then asked for money, all the while painting a picture of pure desperation of the situation with his words. He gave me gory descriptions of his own medical problems, telling me, “I should be in the hospital right now, but we need the money so I’m out here.”

The kids were imploring me to ignore him and to go, but I didn’t have the heart to leave him. I gave him 40 Cordobas – a little more than $2.00. Whether he was telling the truth or not, I’m not sure, but he wrote me a “receipt” and gave me an address, inviting me to check out where they were staying. Later the kids told me to never go there since it was surely a trap and I would be beat up and robbed.

During this conversation the kids were surprisingly patient and quiet. At about this time, however, something was said and Sonia and Ninoska started attacking each other physically. Separating the girls was much harder than I thought. Although I eventually broke up the physical fight, the verbal assault continued. Henry translated Ninoska’s barbs, telling me that she was calling Sonia’s mother a liar and commenting on how much Sonia had changed after meeting me.

I don’t think I can do the scene justice with words. I found myself in a situation I never would have predicted; on a street corner in Managua trying to break up a real fight – punches were thrown, hair was pulled, faces were scratched – between street kids while standing next to a HIV-Positive man begging for money.

The situation got even more depressing when Henry then asked for more money, even getting on his knees at one point and saying, “I’m begging you in the name of Jesus Christ.” This was the closest I’ve ever come to completely losing my composure here. Each component of that situation – the drama between the girls, Henry’s begging, and the ever-present poverty – is worthy of provoking immense sorrow and tears.

I didn’t give Henry any more money then, explaining to him that I needed to buy lunch for the kids, and would return if I had any change following our meal. I didn’t know what else to do.

We went inside and, after finding a table, Ninoska gave me a letter to read and desperately tried to explain its contents when I told her I didn’t understand it. She was so adamant on conveying her message that I called Keren and had her translate. It turns out that Ninoska said she doesn’t want to come to lunch anymore because her mom thinks their family would be better served with using the money I spent on their lunches to buy more items to sell on the street. She offered me a set of binoculars if I would give them 300 Cordobas.

I found myself confused, distressed, and frustrated by my lack of communication skills as a result of the proceeding 20 minutes. I wish that I can report that I maturely and quickly made decisions and handled the situation, but this is simply not true. I felt paralyzed by what had happened and was happening. I told Ninoska, through Keren, that I was going to buy her lunch today and that we could talk about it tomorrow when Keren came.

Shortly thereafter an American man approached me and curiously asked what I was doing. I explained, and he told me he is a major donor to the school which all of the kids attend. He informed me that he and another donor were having lunch with the director of the school a few tables over.

I went over and met the director, and through the American man’s translation, found out that all of the kids except for Ninoska go to the school every morning. The school itself is private and non-profit, funded by Americans. I was so confused – didn’t Sonia’s father tell me just last week that none of them go to school? I mentioned this and no one seemed to have any answers.

I expressed my desire to help the kids and their families. The female donor suggested that I volunteer at the school, helping with English and serving as a role model. I told her that I’d consider the opportunity when I returned at the end of the month. The director told me a little about the kids before imploring me to never keep money or valuables in my backpack while around them, since they were “wise.”

When I returned to the kids they told me, in hushed voices, that the director was a mean lady and doesn’t try to help them. I was now more confused than ever.

Considering today’s events, I really don’t know what to do tomorrow, when I had planned on going to another school in the kids’ neighborhood with Keren and their parents to explore a way to get them admitted. Now that I know they are in school I don’t know what I should do. I am going to call Keren in a little bit and see what she thinks.

Another day in Nicaragua, more tough questions I am unable to answer. It seems like something happens every day which causes my heart to break a little more. I’m sure that this blog is quite scattered and incomplete, but I think that’s an appropriate representation of what happened today and how I’m feeling. The only solution I can think of is prayer. I know that I am far from able to help these kids and deal with these challenges on my own, but God can, and is willing to, help.

Family Problems and Angelic Children

I saw Sonia’s father selling his car accessories when I got off the bus yesterday morning so I decided to go tell him that we’d go to the school on Wednesday. After I attempted to convey this point, he told me some story from which I only understood that there was a fight. The language barrier can be so frustrating sometimes. I then walked to class before returning for lunch.

Thankfully all of the kids – Ninoska included – came to lunch yesterday. Unlike Friday, they were all happy and drama-free. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the parents. Sonia’s mother and Ninoska’s mother are sisters and don’t seem to have the friendliest relationship. Sonia’s mother complained to me about her sister, telling me they got in a fight this weekend. She showed me the cut above her lip and some sort of court-related paper detailing the incident. Ninoska’s mother was present during this conversation, leading me to feel quite awkward.

Ninoska explained to me that her mother was upset with Sonia’s mother because Sonia’s mother asked me for money to buy a crib for her baby. Ninoska’s mom thought her sister was taking advantage of me. Supposedly that was the root of all of the drama on Friday, and it escalated when Sonia’s mother told Ninoska that I told her not to come to lunch anymore. I will say that, in light of my poor Spanish, there is plenty of room for error in these explanations, but this is what I could gather yesterday.

I was quite worried that the families were fighting because of something I have done. I told both mothers that I want to help both families, not play favorites. They explained to me that they were having family problems apart from me. Whether this is true or not, I’m not sure. Not that the situation is any better if I am not the cause, but I would feel terrible if somehow I was making things worse.

Lunch itself was great. For some reason the kids were very well behaved. I wondered what happened to them over the weekend. For the most part they refrained from rolling around on the floor, running into people, pressing the alarm button on the elevator, or pushing the emergency stop button on the escalator.

I had a chance to talk with just Ninoska’s mother after lunch and tried to explain my plan to get the kids into the Catholic school near their house. She said she would come with us on Wednesday to try to set it up. That conversation was very encouraging. I’m really hoping that we can make progress on this school endeavor before I leave.

Two more days before we come back! I am realizing how blessed I am to have a life that I love here as well as one in Baltimore. We can’t wait to see everyone.

Much love,

dw

Play Ball!

Yesterday’s highlight was most definitely our trip to the baseball game. While I was able to use my press pass to gain free admission, Lauren had to buy a $3.50 ticket. We ended up sitting about 15 rows behind home plate. We could have sat in the first row behind the field but the intense Nicaraguan sun chased us into the shade.

Despite poverty’s omnipresence, Nicaragua seems like one big party. The atmosphere at the baseball game was certainly no exception. Even though there were no more than 4,000 people in attendance the crowd was louder than any I’ve been a part of at Camden Yards in quite some time. Missing was the sterile, ordinary, apathetic feeling that one often experiences at Camden Yards. Instead of professionals using their season tickets to entertain clients, Managua’s Dennis Martinez Stadium is home to passionate and lively fans. These fans were even able to start their own cheers without being prompted by stadium graphics or audio effects. Food venders offered a variety of traditional Nicaraguan delicacies. Somehow we passed on fried pig skin, some cheese wrapped in tortillas and doused in heavy cream, and an assortment of fried plantains. We did purchase two oranges for about 15 cents each. Other vendors hawked all sorts of crazy items. Our favorite was definitely the guy who sold whistles and felt the need to prove that his products functioned every 10 seconds.

The game itself was fairly entertaining, although in such a sensory-rich environment it sometimes took on a secondary role. Boer, Managua’s team, lost to San Fernando, Masaya’s representative, 8-5. The quality of baseball was good, but not great. I would say it was equivalent to Single A or AA minor league ball. I quickly pegged Boer’s Clyde Williams, a gringo, as my favorite player since I have seen him twice around town.

I really enjoyed the game and am looking forward to attending more in the future. Baseball gave me a little taste of home, but certainly with a Nicaraguan flavor.

I talked with our friend Keren. She is going to go with me on Wednesday morning to try to set up a way to get the kids into school. Very exciting!

Day Trip

New Pics Posted: http://www.flickr.com/photos/dwnicaragua

Yesterday I went on a day trip organized by our language school. Sadly, Lauren was feeling a bit too ill to join me so I took a cab to the school alone.

Our first stop was in Masaya, where we walked through the famous outdoor market. It was pretty interesting but I think that I prefer the Huembes market here in Managua. We then traveled to Mombacho volcano to do some hiking. It was quite different from Volcan Masaya, the volcano I visited a few weekends ago. While Volcan Masaya was very dry and barren Mombacho was plush with beautiful vegetation. I felt like I was hiking through a forest rather than on a volcano. Also, Volcan Masaya was clearly very active, as it was impossible to miss the gigantic brewing crater. Mombacho is also active although the only indications of such were a few vents spewing some hot, humid air.

Hiking around the volcano was fun, but the highlight of the day was certainly going on a zipline course. Seven of us enjoyed a beautiful decent down the volcano strapped in harnesses. In typical Nicaraguan fashion there were no release forms to sign or thorough safety instructions. Before I knew it I was flying down the line towards the next station. I really enjoyed the 17-station course. The views were beautiful and one of the guides took some cool pictures and a great video.

After the zipline we stopped by Granada for a bit before returning home. It was a fun day. The sites were enjoyable and I took pleasure in meeting the other language students and hearing their stories. No one here ends up by accident so it’s always interesting to find out why people are in Managua. I met this Canadian guy who is interning with a microfinance firm. He loves his work, but after hearing that he spends his days in an office looking at charts and writing reports I became glad that my volunteer position with a microfinance firm fell through. Although his work is certainly very valuable and interesting, I will likely spend my working years behind a desk at home, so it’s nice to get out and experience some other things while I’m here.

I’m not sure if my body or my mind is having a harder time becoming accustomed to “Nica Time.” A key difference between Western culture and Nicaraguan culture is the value placed on punctuality. At home, if something is supposed to start at 6pm, it usually does. If it starts at 6:05 or 6:10 we complain. Nicaraguans seem to have a more relaxed interpretation of timekeeping. As a Type-A guy I often have difficulty conforming to their standards. For example, we were supposed to return to the Spanish school between 4-5pm yesterday and actually got back a little after 7pm. Our guide made no apologies or even commented on the 2-3 hour lateness. In addition, we were served lunch (a white-bread sandwich with a piece of unidentifiable meat and some creamy red spread) at 4:45pm(!). Between my love for scheduling and eating every 3 hours it was a challenging day! Nica time…

Today I am going to go to a baseball game in town and then hopefully watch the Ravens if they are on tv. Hopefully they will show up this game.

A Breakthrough

With the help of my friends Abdhie and Keren I was able to communicate with the kids and their families today. What a privilege. I am realizing how much I take communication for granted.

We all had lunch together, during which Abdhie and Keren translated my numerous questions. I also asked them to tell the kids a little about me so they could get a better idea of why this gringo shows up every day to hang out with them.

The lunch was fun although Ninoska did not join us. Supposedly there is a bit of a rift right now between her family and Sonia’s. Although (maybe I should say ‘Because’) the mothers are sisters they don’t always get along. Through Abdhie and Keren I was told that Ninoska felt bad because Sonia’s mother (Ninoska’s aunt) had asked me for money for a new bed. Ninoska felt like she was taking advantage of me, and was thus so upset with Sonia that she didn’t want to come to lunch. We saw Ninoska afterwards though, and I told her, through Abdhie and Keren, that I really missed having her at lunch and that she has to come on Monday. She said she would think about it.

After lunch we all went back to the street on which they all work. Sonia’s mother sells sunglasses while her father sells car accessories and the kids wash windows.

Although I am glad that we are able to have lunch together every day I want to help the kids in a more long-lasting manner. I recognize the importance of allowing them a few hours of childhood every day, but I also want to assist them grow out of this poverty more permanently. The only idea I’ve had so far is to send them to a better school. Education would be a great investment for the kids. Not only will it allow them to hopefully have better jobs and escape the cycle of poverty, but it also gets them off the street during the day. The kids have been telling me that they go to school in the mornings and then work in the afternoon. If only we could find a full-day school…

I also want to find a way to help the parents earn a better living. If they have better jobs they will be able to provide better lives for the kids. My inspiration for this idea comes from some microfinance cases I have read. Perhaps the classic example is loaning a woman money to buy a washing machine so she can start a small laundry business. The details of such endeavors clearly differ between cases, but the constant of providing people with means to achieve self-sustenance remains.

Abdhie, Keren, the parents, and I had a chance to talk. Abdhie and Keren told Sonia’s parents about the plan to get the kids in a better school than the one they are currently attend. At this point the father told us that the kids don’t go to school now. Now they are on the street all day, every day. He said they were in school but dropped out because they couldn’t afford it. This was a heartbreaking revelation for me. For about a month now the kids have been telling me about their school, even answering my questions of “what did you learn today?” and “do you have much homework?” To find out that they felt they had to lie to cover up for their poverty was so hard to hear.

The parents were receptive to our plan. They knew of a Catholic school near their house which, they think, costs about $20/person/month. Keren explained that we would try to arrange to pay the school directly for their tuitions. Keren had the brilliant idea of also offering a small amount of money – perhaps $25/month – to the parents to make up for the lost income from the kids’ labor. The father seemed pleased with these suggestions, noting that if the kids were in school and if they received this money his wife could remain at home. Keren thought it would be best to refrain from mentioning any further ideas I had to help the parents as we didn’t want to overwhelm them.

The plan is to go to the school on Monday or Tuesday with the father and one of my friends who can translate to discuss this possibility. They kids wouldn’t be able to start classes until the next semester starts in January, but it seems best to get the ball rolling as soon as possible.

I am so excited that there might be a way to tangibly help the kids in a more long-term way. My ultimate goal is to see them go to college. If they could achieve this, they will certainly have exponentially greater chances of making better lives for themselves. This goal is a long way off, though, and I am trying not to get too far ahead of myself.

I am hopeful that next week we will be able to work something out with the school they want to attend. I am almost giddy about today’s occurrences. I am trying to temper my excitement because, being Nicaragua, I doubt that this process will be smooth and easy. I think it’s a real possibility, however.

The constant question I’ve been thinking about since my arrival is; ‘What does God have in store for me here?’ Although I still don’t have a firm answer I believe I got a small taste of one today. As we were saying our goodbyes to the parents I had Keren tell them how much I’ve enjoyed getting to know the kids and spend time with them. The father told us that he thinks that us meeting each other is a “God thing.” I couldn’t agree more.

Extreme Nica

Another day, more manifestations of common Nicaraguan themes. Perhaps the hardest to avoid is the inseparable relationship of extremes, particularly regarding the scale of wealth. Granted, every place on Earth has both rich and poor people, but I have not seen wealth and poverty coexist in such close proximity to each other like I have here.

My time with the kids is a good example of this tumultuous marriage. Before I come each day they spend their time washing car windshields, begging for a Cordoba or two. Then, for about an hour and a half or two hours each day, they have lunch and hang out with me. Juxtaposing merely their physical locations, the street and the Western-style mall, allows one to see this dichotomy. Although the mall and the street on which they work are a mere 200 yards apart, the figurative distance is virtually infinite. This, alone, is a striking comparison.

What I think is more interesting, though, is comparing their responsibilities. For most of the day they are forced to be adults, forgoing the innocence and joy of childhood and facing poverty head-on. For a few hours each day, though, they can simply be kids. I’m encouraged that they still maintain the ability to have fun, be silly, and cause some trouble in the midst of their situations. Watching them eat their lunches, wear their goofy hats, play on the mechanical toys, and scream for ice cream reminds me that they have still are just kids.

Spending time with Ninoska today provided a poignant tangible example of this abstract notion. Initially she refused to join us for lunch, saying she had to keep working. Eventually she caved, however. She is usually the most overtly happy kid, but today she wouldn’t touch her food and spent the meal with her head buried in her arms on the table. My repeated questioning of what was wrong was always met with her simply shaking her head.

I got Kevin to explain her sadness, though. He told me that she wants to go to school tomorrow, but doesn’t have the 100 Cordobas (approx $5.50) for the month of school. While all of the other kids are attending school Ninoska has not been this fall, claiming that her school doesn’t offer her grade until January.

Armed with this knowledge I tried to ask Ninoska about the issue but realized that she didn’t want to talk about it. Although my Spanish is clearly very limited I tried to tell her that I think education is very important and that I wanted to help her go to school. She repeatedly told me that I spend too much money on her already and that she was sorry, but she couldn’t allow me to help.

With my heart broken (another common theme) I pushed hard only to find my efforts repulsed with equally-strong determination. Eventually she offered a compromise – she would accept my money if I agreed not to buy her lunch tomorrow. Finally I got her to accept, very unwillingly, the money and lunch tomorrow. Hopefully she can go to school tomorrow. I'm not confident in my interpretation of the situation, though, so we'll see.

Ninoska’s situation is a perfect representation of the result of the clash between her fleeting youth and prematurely-developed adulthood. She is selfless to a fault; not wanting to receive my assistance even though I sincerely want to give it to her. At the same time, though, she is still a child so naturally she allowed her emotions to get the best of her. Today’s events demonstrated how these two extremes of development can truly coexist.

On a lighter note, here are some less-intense highlights of the past few days:

-I went to the market today after lunch. I got a haircut (for about $1.50), bought some gifts, and drank some juice out of a plastic bag after ripping it open with my teeth.

-Yesterday a father-son team of clowns performed on my bus. It was very entertaining despite the fact that I understood about 7% of their skit. Bus performers are not uncommon here. Many give some sort of monologue then go around asking for a Cordoba. Sometimes I encounter guys preaching the Bible out loud, too.

-I forced myself to sit through the painful Ravens’ game Monday night. I could probably devote another whole blogsite to my opinions on the Ravens but, for your sake, I will merely say that if Billick doesn’t turn to Boller this weekend I will be quite upset.

-I somehow managed to pass my Level III Spanish test.

-Yesterday I found out that a coffee shop I go to sometimes offers delicious salads. I thoroughly enjoyed eating fresh vegetables.

-We will be home one week from tomorrow. We’re excited to see everyone!

Determining "Enough"

Started on Saturday, 11/3, finished Sunday, 11/4

I’m writing this as we swerve all over the road trying to avoid potholes on the way to San Juan del Sur, supposedly one of Nicaragua’s best beaches. Lauren’s sister and brother-in-law, Jane and John, are planning on going to Spanish school there in a few months so they generously offered to pay for our hotel if we went down and checked it out. We didn’t have any plans for the weekend so we decided to go.

I’m pretty sure we got scammed at the bus station. As soon as our cab stopped a man resembling a Nicaraguan Gene Nichol (WM’s President) asked where we were going and aggressively directed us to a bus. I tried to make our desire to take a direct bus to San Juan clear but I’m pretty sure we’re on a bus to Rivas, from which we’ll have to take a short taxi to San Juan. After escorting us onto the bus the man stood in front of me demanding una propina (a tip). It’s not a big deal if we have to go to Rivas, though. I’ll count this as a learning experience. (My feeling was correct – our bus went to Rivas and we caught a taxi to the beach).

I’m just glad that we got a bus that will (hopefully) lead us in the right direction. As is to be expected in Nicaragua, the bus station is far from organized or easy to navigate. While the lack of order frustrates the mind, the abundance of street vendors selling food, crafts, and newspapers provides a colorful scene quite pleasing to the eye. All of the commotion gives the setting a chaotic ambience – a setting I’m becoming quite familiar with.

It’s amazing how quickly the dirty, noisy city of Managua disappeared. Within 20 minutes of leaving the bus stop we found ourselves staring out at a beautiful variety of vegetation. Nicaragua is certainly a country of many extremes, with this clear distinction between city and country being the latest example to add to the list.

Despite the clear differences between urban Managua and the countryside, poverty remains a sad and ever-present constant. Like a chameleon, poverty seems to survey its present circumstances and adapt accordingly. While poor kids in Managua favor washing car windshields for money we’ve driven past several groups of kids who use shovels to fill in the aforementioned potholes, then stand by their work with a hand extended towards passing cars. I had the thought that the little kids I just saw could have easily been the kids I hang out with in Managua. Confronting poverty becomes much more uncomfortable when it has faces and names.

Recently I’ve been thinking about the point at which I can, without hesitation, release myself from attempting to give and serve. I’ll try to explain. As someone who’s been blessed abundantly I feel an obligation and, more importantly, a desire to try to bless others. I believe that God calls us to serve others not out of sense of duty, but because He wants us to experience the true, pure joy that comes with giving. I knew that I’ve been given resources – the more important being love – that I am called to share. That’s what I’m trying to do here.

All of that being said, however, I recognize that I cannot try to help everyone I see. This notion has been made quite clear to me here, where need is omnipresent. When is it okay to say “no?” For every child I give money to I probably say no to five. How should I choose which beggars to give money to? How many kids to take to lunch? What do to with my finances? When to return to the States?

I know myself well enough to admit that I am not strong enough to give as much as I ideally would. I would love to see myself spending all day with people in need, even living with them in their neighborhoods. In order to avoid burning out, though, I concede that I need a clean, safe place to sleep and some semi-normal food every day. I am also unwilling to give up easy access to the internet, which allows me to stay in touch with everyone I love.

The first conclusion that I’ve come to is that this question is often driven by guilt and self-imposed pressure. If I feel like I should be doing more I am probably feeling guilty that I’m not. I don’t think that God is too fond of using guilt to bring about change. He seems to prefer compassion. Guilt traps, compassion liberates. It I was purely motivated by a desire to serve I would not worry about this question, instead I would strictly think about how to best love people.

I don’t think there is anything wrong with indulging in some luxuries – I am writing these words on the bus back from a weekend at the beach – as long as one’s heart is set on loving the Lord and others better. To get caught up in this issue would be a detriment to my mission here, assuming my heart is in the right place.

Those are my only conclusions so far. I’d love to hear if anyone has anything to say on the matter, as I am quite far from being an authority on this, or any, issue. Thanks for reading.

Back in Managua

From Monday, November 5th

I think that I’m appreciating our beach weekend even more today than I did during the trip. I am feeling quite recharged and refreshed. Lesson learned.

I had a good Spanish class this morning. I finished with Level 3 – tomorrow we will review and then I will attempt to pass the test sometime soon. Assuming I do (a risky choice) I will make a little progress into Level 4 this week.

After class I met the kids for lunch. Sonia, Lionardo, Isac, and Kevin (I received some corrections in spelling their names today) joined me. Ninoska had to stay outside and work. It was really hard to go inside, knowing she was out there, but the kids insisted on it and we agreed to bring her food afterwards.

Perhaps due to my rejuvenation I asked the kids lots of questions about their lives today. Somehow they understood my Spanish well enough to give me some answers. I found out that both fathers are present in their lives; a fact that surprised me as they had never previously mentioned them. One is a security guard and one sells things on the street near his mother’s sunglasses stand. Each family lives in its own house about a 40 minute bus ride from Metrocentro. There are more kids in each family than just the ones I have lunch with.

After a great lunch and ice cream I took the buses home. My first bus, the 119, was ridiculously crowded so I squeezed myself into the crowd for the 7-minute ride. Although I don’t like to be touched I’ve conceded that my personal-space requirement will rarely be met on the buses. As is often I found myself jostled around amongst the crowd. Many people got off at the stop before mine so I was able to claim a little more room.

At this time I realized that my phone was missing from my pocket. I looked around but I knew that the thief had likely just gotten off, and I did not have the heart to accuse the old grandmother next to me. I will admit that I was pretty mad for a bit. It’s not a big deal – I can get another phone for under $20 – but I think the concept hurt me more than losing the phone. I took some time to get myself together and now I am feeling fine about it. It’s just a phone. I am lucky to have one in the first place, and extremely lucky to have the resources to replace it so easily.

Back to the good stuff.

I was so glad to learn more about the kids. I was thinking on the way back from the beach of ways I can help. I came to the conclusion that helping 2 families should really be quite easy. I have been blessed beyond all measure, including with an amazingly supportive family and group of friends. Between my resources and others generosity I’m sure that something can be done to lift these two beautiful families to a better place in life. The problem is now figuring out what to do.

I’ve been interested in microfinance, in essence giving poor people access to small loans, ever since my good friend Kevin Newton introduced it to me last year. The idea has been quite successful in developing countries, allowing those in need to set up self-sustaining business projects. Why can’t I do something like that here with these two families? Really, it should be simple. Success depends on merely connecting the two parts of the equation – their need and access to resources. This would also provide a more long-term solution to their poverty.

I am going to get one of my bilingual friends to come one day so we can have a real conversation. I first want to see if there is a better school, preferably full-day, to which the kids can go. I also want to find out how I can help the parents. Getting them better jobs would be a much more effective solution than just giving them money.

These are just some thoughts that have been running through my mind recently. Fighting poverty on a global scale is understandably quite daunting. Even viewing the issue on a countrywide, citywide, or even block-wide basis is intimidating. Two families, though, seems like a reasonable endeavor.

Assuming this can be done, what impact really will be made? It’s just two families out of thousands. And what makes those families more deserving than others? While I haven’t heard these questions yet they are, I believe, worth having answers to. Yes, helping two out of thousands is not very “efficient” or even cost-effective. The thing to remember is that that we’re talking about people not statistics. Even if my entire four months here resulted in one person’s life improving slightly, I would consider it a success. To deem it a failure on account of not being worthwhile is, in effect, saying that my life is more valuable than those whom I’m here with.

I say all of this not in response to any criticism or questions I have encountered. I have received nothing but love and support from everyone I know, and for that I am beyond thankful. Instead I am speaking to myself, and my need to always maximize my efficiency. I figure if I put this out there in writing I will at least have a few people who can remind me that the issues at hand are people’s lives, not economics.

Beautiful Beach Weekend

Pictures from the beach are posted: http://www.flickr.com/photos/dwnicaragua

We’re back from a great weekend at San Juan del Sur, a beautiful beach town about 3 hours from Managua. We didn’t realize how refreshing and needed the break from the city was until we had a chance to really relax in San Juan.

Saturday morning we took a bus from Managua to Rivas, a town quite close to San Juan, and then a taxi for the final 30 minutes to the beach. We enjoyed a delicious lunch in a beachfront restaurant, giving me an opportunity to satisfy my craving for fresh seafood. Afterwards we walked around the town, checking out Spanish schools for Lauren’s sister and brother-in-law and finding a hotel. Our selection – the Villa Isabella – was 2 blocks; about a 3 minute walk, from the beach. Perfect. We dropped our bags and caught a few hours of sun before having yet another tasty oceanfront meal. Finally, we retreated to the hotel and read our books in hammock-seats before bed.

The town of San Juan del Sur is quite small. To give you a scale – our hotel was just about on the eastern edge of town and the beach is on the far west side. The area closest to the beach caters mostly towards tourists and consists primarily of hotels, restaurants, bars, and Spanish schools. We were surprised at the amount of gringos we saw. It was quite a difference from Managua. We both commented that we didn’t receive the ‘what are you doing here?’ stares that are part of our daily routines in Managua. The beach directly at San Juan del Sur is nice, although not exceptional. However, it was perfect for us. Supposedly there are much better beaches nearby and hopefully next time we go we will visit them.

Although the town is touristy it retains much of its Nicaraguan charm. The road to the town is perhaps the worst road I’ve ever been on. I am glad I don’t get motion sickness, as the potholes we encountered would have surely done the trick. In town street vendors still attempt to sell their goods – ceramics, bootleg dvds, nuts, fried plantain chips, and jewelry, among other things, as they do in Managua. They even come into the restaurants and walk around trying to make a sale. Today at lunch we had three vendors approach us within five minutes of sitting down. We saw a man carrying a plastic horse from a carousel on his shoulder today, eliciting another “Nicaragua...” and smiles from both of us. The things people sell here can be ridiculous.

Our day started with a wonderful breakfast at our hotel. I enjoyed some chocolate-banana pancakes while Lauren opted for merely the banana version. Then we hit the beach for about 3 hours. The sun is more intense here in the morning than in the afternoons, so by about 11:45am we were ready to go back and shower. We had one last great meal in a beachfront restaurant before finding a bus and heading home.

The bus ride back was, in Nicaraguan fashion, entertaining. We weren’t able to take an express bus back, meaning our bus made about 7,000 stops along the way. This allowed food vendors a chance to board the bus and offer their items for sale. At one point there were 5 vendors walking down the aisle with their food announcing their products. The bus had a festival-like feel. Although I was able to resist the lure of soda in a plastic sandwich bag I wasn’t strong enough to turn down a Nicaraguan snoball for about 30 cents. It was good although I prefer Snoasis. We finally made it home about 4 hours later.

It was so nice to have a chance to leave the city this weekend. I feel quite recharged for the last week and a half we’re here before we go home for weddings and Thanksgiving.

We really appreciated the luxury. I did some writing on the bus, if I am able to read my handwriting I will type it up sometime soon.

Much love,

dw

Off to the Beach

Good morning! Lauren and I are heading off to the beach at San Juan del Sur in a few minutes but I wanted to give a quick update before we leave.

Yesterday I had class and then a good lunch with the kids. The younger kids (Ysaac and Leonardo) were at home so just the four older kids (Carlos, Kevin, Ninoska, and Sonia) were there. I think not having the younger kids there allowed the older kids some freedom since they didn't have to worry about looking after their younger siblings. We had lots of fun and Sonia(!) announced to everyone else that they could choose either a ride or ice cream after lunch. We didn't have any trouble with that issue yesterday.

The kids really missed Nefret. They asked me about her repeatedly and made me promise to tell her how much they love her. It's amazing the impact she had on the kids in just a few days.

After lunch I went to Compassion for two reasons. First, they called me back on Thursday and needed email addresses for my references, so I delivered them. Second, I wanted to talk with someone about getting the kids involved in the Compassion program, where they can be sponsored and receive education, basic heath care, food, and a safe place to go. I don't know whether this will work out - I just read that the kids must be between the ages of 3-9 - but if not maybe they can give me the name of another organization which can help them. Maybe at least Leonardo and Ysaac can get involved.

Ok, off to the beach. We will be home tomorrow (Sun) at some point, and I will try to blog then. Hope you have a great weekend!

Goodbye, Nefret

I will start this update by offering three phrases I have repeated several times throughout this blog. First, Nicaragua breaks my heart. Second, I feel helpless quite frequently, which often leads to frustration. Third, life here is full of lots of ups and downs.

Today was tough. After class I walked to Metrocentro to meet Nefret and the kids. Two of the young boys ran up to me and starting speaking very excitedly and quickly. The only words I made out were “accident,” “bus,” and “Kevin.” Thankfully my fears were quickly scattered when Kevin ran around the corner. It turns out that the kids watched a man get his leg run over by a bus this morning in their neighborhood. Even though I couldn’t understand the vast majority of what the kids were saying the details sounded grisly. I am reporting all of this because all of the kids, understandably, seemed quite shaken up by the event, and were acting a bit unusual from the beginning of our time together.

We had a great lunch together – primarily because the kids absolutely ADORE Nefret. I don’t blame them, since she is so wonderful with them, and can actually converse with them in Spanish. She is a natural with the children. Everyone enjoyed another delicious meal from Tip-Top. Yum.

The trouble started after lunch. As we spend more time together I am realizing that I need to have a more structured relationship with them. I am becoming less of an ‘uncle who they see once a year and can spoil them,’ and more of an ‘older brother who has to say “no” and establish some guidelines in order to maintain a healthy relationship.’

Recently we’ve been occasionally riding the kiddie rides or getting ice cream after lunch. They’ve never asked to do both on the same day, though, so when they did today I felt it would be beneficial for everyone if I offered them a choice of rides or ice cream. Nefret told them their options and the two younger boys, Leonardo and Ysaac, chose the rides while Kevin and Ninoska wanted ice cream. Sonia told us she didn’t want either. The boys rode their rides and, as we all were leaving, we bought ice cream for Kevin and Ninoska.

Leonardo and Sonia immediately became silent, obviously upset that Kevin and Ninoska got ice cream while they did not. We had a tense walk out of the mall, with Kevin and Ninoska in front happily eating their ice cream, followed by Leonardo, Sonia, and Ysaac all pouting to various degrees.

The kids walked with us up the street for a bit, and insisted on crossing the highway via the overhead walkway with us. Emotions and tension were both running quite high at this point. The kids were dealing with the accident they witnessed earlier, the ice cream episode, and, most importantly, Nefret’s departure.

The ten minutes we waited for the bus were ten of the longest minutes I’ve experienced in a long time. Sonia and Leonardo refused to talk to us, despite Nefret’s repeated questioning of, “what’s wrong?” Kevin and Ninoska were fine, although they, too, didn’t know how to react to their amigos’ behavior. Ysaac brought both Nefret and I much fear by refusing to come down from the extremely dangerous walkway. Despite our pleas the little guy kept putting his head through the restraining bars, causing us to picture him falling onto the highway below. Sonia and Leonardo told us that they weren’t even coming to lunch tomorrow. We knew that they would leave as soon as we got on a bus, and although we hated saying goodbye, we knew the 119’s arrival was a positive development.

The day was frustrating for many reasons. I think, for me, the most maddening aspect was my inability to understand what was going on in the kids’ heads. This failure to communicate ran deeper than merely language barriers; I’m not sure I would have been able to understand if they could speak English or I could speak better Spanish. I just wanted to know what was wrong and why they were so upset. I am confident that their moods and behavior could not be explained by simply not getting ice cream.

These kids live such tough lives that it’s easy to forget that they are, indeed, still kids. As my girlfriend Emily put it this evening, “they have been forced to grow up way too quickly, but are still kids, so it makes sense that they aren’t always mature enough to handle certain situations.”

Nefret and I were upset that her final goodbye had to occur the way it did, as she will likely never see them again. We talked this afternoon about how heartbreaking the situation was. We were delighted when Sonia called this evening and apologized to Nefret. I am glad because I assume her apology means she is coming tomorrow.

I know that I am not doing the scene justice with these words. I was mad not at the kids, but at their circumstances. Sure, they were hard to deal with today, but how can I look at the ridiculous lifestyles they are forced to live and not feel compassion?

This entry is scattered and perhaps illogical, I know, but I think it reflects the day quite well. I don’t even know how I really feel right now. Again, I wish I could say all of our interactions with the kids were fun, light, and easy. People are much more complicated than that, though, especially kids. I just wish I could do more to help. I think the best thing I can do right now is continue to show up, speak bad Spanish, buy them lunch, and give them a break from the streets for an hour and a half every day. Hopefully I can provide something for them to look forward to and a positive sense of stability.

Lauren had an eventful day as well. She spent the day at the hospital comforting one of her orphans who broke his arm in 3 places. I give her lots of credit for dealing with significant language issues and a hurting child at the same time.

We’re about to take Nefret to the airport. It’s been so great having her here. She was so awesome with the kids and a real blessing to Lauren and me as well.

Daniel Bain Article

I got to talk with Daniel Bain, who works at La Chureca, last week and wrote this article about him. Hope you enjoy - he is an incredible guy.

Daniel Bain stands out in Nicaragua. His 6’5” frame and white skin do not lead many to mistake him for being Nicaraguan. However, he stands out for more than just his physical characteristics. Daniel works for Light, Live, and Melody – a non-profit organization which is, according to its website, “dedicated to battling the physical, emotional, and spiritual affects of extreme poverty found” in what’s known as “La Chureca;” the city of Managua’s trash dump. Close to 800 people reside there, sifting through garbage for a living.

Daniel became involved in Nicaragua in July of 2005 as a volunteer with Manna Project International after graduating that year from the University of Southern California. Living and working in a community of recent college grads from the US, Daniel built relationships with Nicaraguans, primarily children, through educational and literacy programs. During this time Daniel became familiar with La Chureca and began to establish friendships with many of its children and families. After working with Manna for two years Daniel knew that he wanted to continue his work in Nicaragua, reflecting, “I knew that God wasn’t done with me yet.”

His road to working with Light, Love, and Melody started when he met Brad Corrigan, the drummer from the band Dispatch, last fall. Brad fell in love with the people of La Chureca when, while in Managua visiting an orphanage he helped raise funds for, he ended up there after asking his cab driver to take him to a poor neighborhood. Once exposed to the horrors of La Chureca, Brad decided to help.

He started a girls’ home in September, 2006, giving some of the children a break from living in what many have described as “hell.” Daniel visited the home multiple times and found it to be a, “place of joy.” “It was crazy how much I began to love those girls. God taught me about His love, particularly that however much I loved them, He loved them, and me, even more,” he recalled.

Following his two years with Manna, Daniel felt called to remain in Nicaragua, specifically in La Chureca. While most Nicaraguans purposely avoid the area, Daniel does not want to be anywhere else.

Working with Love, Light, and Melody gives Daniel opportunities to practice a true ministry of presence. Currently he is focused on three or four families, with whom he strives to simply share life. While building relationships with these families Daniel attempts to offer love, hope for a better future, and possibly a way out of the dump.

Many of La Chureca’s families are in turmoil, not surprisingly considering their living conditions. Child prostitution, drug and alcohol abuse, and domestic violence are rampant. Although basic in principle, Daniel’s work is far from simple in reality. “I don’t know what to say to a mom when she tells me her husband is beating her,” he said.

Tragically, yet understandably, a cycle of low self-worth casts a strong hold over the children of La Chureca. Without knowing or believing themselves worthy of any other options, many children passively submit to the many of the dark temptations easily available. For this reason, Daniel tries to foster “restoration and reconciliation of families.” Children in strong, stable families are far less likely to fall victim to the horrible cycle.

In addition to continuing to spend time with the families, Daniel aims to connect with relief organizations which work outside of La Chureca. Doing so, he says, will create opportunities for residents of La Chureca to get help and vocational training. With proper instruction these individuals will have the skills they need to escape the madness of what they now call home.

Daniel’s love for the families he works with is evident in the passion with which he describes them. His commitment is equally as clear, as he claims to have no plans to leave Nicaragua in the foreseeable future. He commented, “I’m ready to see their hearts change. I’m excited to see the kids grow up and have families.”