Living the life of a campesino in Cerro Grande, Matagalpa, Nicaragua

Buenos y buenas!

I´ve just returned to the city and am now beginning to deconstruct the many complicated elements of my week in the campo. I´ll begin by telling you that one could never go to a place like this with too much humility: a very simple way of life, an extraordinarily hardworking, humble, generous, loving and timid community of people, both of which are perpetually challenged by a complex web of environmental degradation, disease, politics, hunger, technology and poverty. I would return to the campo in a heartbeat, and am considering to do so for my independent study, but now I need to consider and reconsider the many life lessons I learned this week and figure out how my new perspective can be applied to my own lifestyle, which is superficially different, but (ideally) fundamentally similar to the one I led in the campo.




The family I lived with were the salt of the earth- deeply humble and unassuming and endlessly generous with their limited food supply and living space. They have lived in the campo all of their lives, never travelled beyond San Ramon, a small town about a three hour walk away, are largely illiterate and, when they´re lucky, they eat rice, beans and tortillas for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Doña Francisca, the mother, is 52 years old, very overweight due to illness, and nearly toothless due to decay. Her husband passed away about 15 years ago and nearly half of her children still live in her one and a half room adobe home. She spends a lot of time cooking each day, and, unlike many of the campo mothers, has a wage job at a birthing center in San Ramon, where she lives for two week intervals. The life expectancy in the campo is 60, so Francisca is considered a very old women by their standards. Victor, 33, the only son living at home, is about 5 ft tall, also toothless and very shy. He works at a coffee plantation in a village about an hour and a half walk away, so I didn´t spend much time with him, but when he was around, he tended to the family´s corn crop and banana, orange, coffee and mango trees, dug irrigation trenches and repaired tools that frequently broke. Paula, 32, is the oldest daughter living at home, though there are three others in the community. She has beautiful black hair half the length of her body and she spends all day, every day, making tortillas and cooking rice and beans. The tortilla-making process is incredibly time consuming and labor insensive, and includes collecting corn kernals, which are either purchased or removed from the cob (depending on the time of year), soaked and cooked for hours, milled into a dough, milled into a finer dough, pounded one by one into the individual tortillas and heated in a pan over the open fire. As the staple of the campo diet, tortillas are eaten at every meal so it is necessary for one family member to make them regularly throughout the day. Socorro, 23, is completing 6th grade at the community´s public school, which runs from 8 AM to 12 PM daily. Her responsibilities at home include, washing the family´s laundry by hand at a spigot that sometimes releases water - quite the task, especially during mud season - gathering water for the kitchen, and collecting fire wood (the family does all of their cooking over open flames, so lots of wood is needed). Three days each week she walks to a thick cloud forest about two miles away to gather fallen branches, which she piles in a huge bundle on top of her head, then makes her way back to the home and prepares to repeat the process again. Maritza, 17, has completed 6th grade, the highest level offered in the community, and is hoping to begin high school in San Ramon next year. She helps out around the house as well - collects fire wood, does laundry and sweeps. She waters and sweeps the home´s dirt floor, all of the dirt foot paths around the house, and the dirt yard. The land in this region has a high content of clay, so it packs down firmly. Sweeping the dirt surfaces, though it sounds ironic, helps maintain a very tidy living space and, more importantly, diminishes the propagatiuon of fleas! (Yes, I got fleas in the campo!) Finally, Maribel, 6, is the daughter of either Victor or Paula (I was never able to figure it out, and some things are just not worth inquiring about- many people in this community are very closely related...). She is a very sweet, curious and vibrant child, and as a first grader, the only member of the family on track to finish primary school on time.





I decided it would be worth telling you about the responsibilities of each of these people not because I think you´re particularily interested in seemingly mundane tasks, but to try to give you a glimpse the reality of life in the campo. These tasks are what these people live for: when I asked each of them about their life dreams, every family member began by responding with (and some had only one response) ¨being able to work hard all of my life.¨ Hard work puts food on the table- this correlation is direct and clear. It´s a matter of survival. Of course, this is not to say that they don´t have fun- there are a few musicians in the community who play for dances and Sunday mass and, in general, people find joy in very simple things, like the beautiful mountainous countryside, daily rain showers followed by warm and vibrant sunlight and a night sky filled with an endless depth of shining stars.





Doña Francisca and here family live in a small adobe home with a corregated tin roof (there are only a few holes in it!), and a dirt floor. They have a cement latrine and a small chicken coop. This is one of about 30 homes that make up the community of Cerro Grande, all of which are scattered throughout the mountains, never in sight of another, but nestled just over a ridge or around the bend of a hill. All six family members sleep on a low wooden table, surrounded by makeshift plastic walls. The table is about 8 ft long and 5 feet wide, and doubles as a storage space for clothing as well, because it one of the only non-dirt surfaces in the home. When it is chilly, as it often is the Matagalpan mountains, the family sleeps directly on the wooden planks and use their few blankets and towels as covers. I slept in a sleeping bag in a plastic hammock, which despite its cramped nature was luxurious compared to their wooden bed. In addition to the hammock and sleeping table, there was a small wooden table, one plastic chair, a wooden bench, an elevated fire pit for cooking, a small hand-powered mill for tortilla-making, a battery powered radio, a few dishes and spoons and about 15 old cooking oil and soda bottles that serve as water jugs. Hanging on the earth walls are socially-consicious posters about protecting the environment, voting for education and fighting against sexual abuse in rural communities, all of which represent issues the family is passionate about, and surprisingly well-informed. Specifically, despite high levels of illiteracy, there is a great deal of community organizing in rural Nicaragua, speared in part by NGOs but also by internally driven cooperative efforts. A lot of information is transmitted over the radio and local church groups and priests serve as conveyors of progressive social and environmental information. Though formal organization is limited due the necessity of spending long hours working, awareness of issues ranging from local effects of global warming to support groups for domestc violence was striking.





While I was in the campo, I spent the mornings working and the afternoons exploring the areas with hordes of laughing children. We spent one day digging the foundation of a new home in the side of a mountain, another digging holes for banana trees, one digging an irrigation trench, and another planting coffee trees. In the afternoons I wandered along the steep grassy ridges on the outskirts of town, listened to howler monkeys, watched a sloth, treated myself to oranges and bananas, explored a lush cloud forest reserve, collected fire wood and water and made tortillas. The week was a respite from the piles of burning trash and stifling pollution of Managua, but the thick and constant smoke in the house from the cooking fire took a toll on my lungs. Most delightful about this week were the people: they have so little, yet are clearly content. They explained that they are grateful to have eachother, and indeed, family members spend a lot of time togther. Notions of personal space and privacy are nonexistant, and if someone wanders off alone (including me!) she is considered ¨afligida¨- afflicted! Of course, these people know no other way of life, so genuine contentment is fortunate. Regardless though, I cant stop thinking about how living, day in and day out, on the edge of survival must be grating. This is a notion I couldn´t quite grasp this week... It was difficult to refrain from romanticizing the simplicity, when in reality, simplicty was a facade I constructed to mask the fundamental struggle for life. Most amazing was that, despite this struggle, my family was so welcoming and so generous. They gave me large portions of food, cleaned my clothes, and, even though I protested, washed my feet! Though they were timid, by the end of the week they began to ask questions about my home and way of life. I showed them photos of many of you (which they loved!) and explained, ¨No, we don´t grow beans in New England. Nope, not rice either. Yes, we can grow corn, but we don´t make tortillas... Where I come from not everyone farms. We have markets where we buy food, and people work other jobs... teachers, doctors...¨ These concepts were so foreign to them and they clarified, ¨If you don´t work the land, where does your food come from?¨ and I tried to explain once more.

When I arrived in Cerro Grande, I brought a sack filled with campo essentials: rice, beans, cooking oil, sugar, salt, a bowl, rope, a plastic hammock, soap, candles, matches and toilet paper. Throughout the week the family used most of these items (and I slept in the hammock) but they never touched the rolls of toilet paper that I´d left on the table. As I prepared to leave, they reminded me not to forget the toilet paper and when I explained I was leaving it with them, they cried. They´ve only used toilet paper a few times in their lives- it´s a luxury of the upper class. I also left my towel, sneakers and a few t-shirts, which they accepted with teary eyes and humble gratitude. As I departed, each family member kissed me profusely, we hugged and they sobbed. My eyes welled with tears too - I was moved by their affection and sincerity - they explained that these had been some of the happiest six days of their lives.

In many ways my life is much different than that of Doña Francisca and her family, but they taught me things that are incredibly applicable to my life- the humility and generosity they embody exist on a level I apire to emulate, poverty is relative, and happiness is derived from the people you love, hard work and the beauty of the world around you. Perhaps these observations are trite, but they mean something new to me right now.

Alright, I´ve got to go to class. My love to you all! Be happy, well (and humble!)

Love,
Flea-bitten, sun-burned, very happy Emily

Esteli, a crazy week of classes and the southern pacific coast!

Greetings from Nicaragua!
This past week has been a whirlwind, filled with some adventures, a few papers, lots of rice and beans, daily bucket baths and more amazing speakers. As I mentioned in a previous post, two weekends ago a few of my firends and I ventured up to Esteli, a laid back town in the northern Nicaraguan mountains. Some of the most violent battles of the revolution took place in this region, which was a Sandinista stonghold in the 80s, and remnants of the violence and political strife remain: vibrant, complex murals depicting battles, attemps at reconcialiation, and Sandino line the city´s streets, banners marking the 30 year anniversary of the revolution decorate the central park, and a museum of heroes and martyrs, filled with photographs of the region´s brave youth, is a bleak, but historically-revealing tourist attraction. I spent the weekend exploring the city, taking a respite from gallo pinto (Nicaragua´s ubiquitous fried rice and bean dish), breathing fresh air, and walking through farms and over foot hills on the outskirts of the city, searching for a supposedly breathtaking waterfall. We returned to Managua on Sunday night, and I awoke at 4:30 on Monday morning to Nicaragua´s Happy Brithday song blasting (It was on repeat for about an hour!). Indeed it was my host mom, Doña Eva´s, birthday, and Nicaraguans love to celebrate! She cooked all day long, and when I returned from classes in the evening the house was filled with people, food, music and dance. Great aunts danced with grand nephews, mothers with sons, and children with grandparents. The festivities lasted for hours and even la abuela held her own - I suppose she´s had 103 birthdays to practice! The rest of the week flew by and I spent every last moment reading, studying and preparing for an oral exam. All went well and on Friday afternoon I undertook my most ambitious activity yet: travelling with 9 other tall, white Americans to southern Nicaragua. While going to a tourist-filled surfer-friendly beach was not my first choice, the group wanted to attempt a weekend adventure together, and that was the preferred destination. The beach was beautiful, and, in fact, unlike any beach I´ve visited before- fine white sand and flat, expansive rock formations comprised the beach, enromous waves made up the surf and steep, cactus-lined cliffs took the place of the dunes I´m accustomed to. I found a deep, shiny cave carved out by the ocean in a cliff wall, and in the distance was a spectacular rock formation jutting out of the sea like an enormous shark fin. Though travelling with a large group is exhausting, the beauty of Madera was invigorating! We returned to Managua on Sunday and had two days of classes. Today we are going to an international poetry festival in Granada, where there is going to be a funeral procession for ïntolerance¨and ¨injustice¨ (casket and all), and tomorrow we leave for ¨el campo¨, farming communities in rural Nicaragua. I´ll write about this when I return in just more than a week, but here´s what I know so far: I will be living in a one room adobe hut with as many as 10 people, there will be no electricty, no running water and few, if any, latrines. I´ll be working in the fields with the men- they grow coffee which is exported to the U.S. (they receive almost no compensation), collecting water and cooking with the women, herding animals and playing with kids. I will also be practincing ethnographic research methods we´re studying. These people are among the 40% of Nicaraguans who live on less than $2 per day, making Nicaragua the second poorest country, after Haiti, in the Western hemisphere. This experience will be challenging, though I am really excited to live very simply for a week - to truly subsist, to have very few possessions, and to catch a glimpse of a lifestyle so common in many parts of the world, yet ignored by many others. Ok, off I go! My love to everyone! Please stay well and be happy!
Em

P.S.

Please forgive my typos- the computers here are very slow, some keys don´t work and the is no spell check!

One week in...

Holas Todos!

It´s been just over a week since my arrival in Nicaragua and already there is so much to share! After meeting my group last Friday, we had a few days of orientation and moved in with our host families on Tuesday. I´m in Esteli, a northern Nicaraguan city, right now, spending the weekend with a few friends and scouting out a possible location for my independent study project. So far my time in Nicaragua has been exhilerating, exhausting and inspiring... here are a few fun stories...

Last weekend we spent a lot of time discussing program details with our academic director, going over safety precaussions, taking Spanish placement exams, and figuring out how to navigate the busy capital city. Managua is unlike any city I´ve visited before. Almost all of the homes and buildings are a single story, people sell everything from fruit to watches in the middle of three lane highways, the heat is stifling, sidewalks are indistigiushable from dumps, theft is pervasive, catcalls are endless, tropical trees are abundant, and Nicas are some of the most welcoming, friendly and passionate people I have ever met! One fundamental component of all SIT orientations is a ¨drop off¨which took place on Monday. We woke up early and took a bus to Leon, a colonial city in northwestern Nicargua. Upon arrival, our academic director Aynn asked two people leave the bus. She handed them an envelope, and the bus drove on. Student pairs continued to depart the bus at random points around the city, and eventually, when my turn came around, I took an envelop and began a journey with my partner Manual. In our envelope, we were asked to gather information about Nicaragua and specifically Leon, including local folklore. We had heard about a museum of Leonese legends, and after asking for directions from an array of street food vendors, we finally made it to the museum (addresses don´t exist in Nicaragua... a specific place is always described in relation to another, so if you don´t know the latter, it is very difficult to get aywhere!). Unfortunately the museum was closed, so we decided that our next best option was to talk to locals! We came across two women sweeping the sidewalk in front of their home and we asked them to tell us a Nicaraguan legend. Excited by our interest, one women described a story about a boogieman as the other retreated indoors. She emerged with a book of legends, suggested we make a photocopy of our favorites and explained that her son would guide us to a nearby copy shop... Legends in hand we continued to explore the city!

The next day we met our host families and, believe it or not, I am living with a 103 year- old grandmother! She is tiny and very sweet, though suffering from dimentia- I´ve been reintroduced to her a few times... In addition to la abuela I am living with a mom, dad as well as their son and nephew. I am the youngest member of the family by about 10 years, which makes for an interesting dynamic- they all look out for me, and try their best to ensure that I´m well-fed, well-rested and comfortable. Unfortunately, it is difficult for these things to coexist in Managua- water runs only from 2 AM to 6 AM, the city is hot and dusty and almost all of the food is fried! Nonetheless, I am happy and very charmed by thier generosity and kindness.

My classes started on Wednesday and I have Spanish for 3.5 hours every morning and the Revolution, Trasformation and Civil sociaty seminar for 2 hours every afternoon, except for Monday, when I have a field study methodology course for 3 hours. There are only three students in my Spanish course which is FANTASTIC! I´m absorbing a lot, learning local expressions and meanings, and increasingly able to have complex conversations. For the last hour of class two days each week we meet up with university students, our conversation partners. The student I´m working with, Noelia, is a advocate of womens rights in Nicaragua and very politically engaged. She inspires me a great deal- she´s very intelligent, well informed about social and political issues and devoted to making her country more just and peaceful... Every Thursday our Spanish professors bring us on a field trip, and this past Thursday we toured the National Palace and met Eden Pastora, the leader of the Sandinista group that took over the National Palace in 1979 and held the U.S.-trained National Guard hostage for two days. He is a legend and hero here in Nicaragua and we had the opportunity to talk with him for a few hours! Similarly, our afternoon classes are taught by an array of famous political figures and professors, including, so far, the president of one of Nicaraguas most prominent political parties and an acclaimed and incredibly brave Sandinista guerilla, also part of the group that held the National Palace seige in 79. These classes are fascinating and charged with passionate political energy, strong conceptions of justice, disparate views of how and why the revolution took place, inspired accounts of the role the U.S. has played in Niacaraguan politics, and projections about Nicaragua´s future. I feel so privileged to talk with such passionate and accomplished historical and political figures- AMAZING!!!

On Friday after class my friends and I left for Esteli... more to come on this adventure soon!

I hope you are all happy and well!

Love,
Em