Volcano Surfing, Screaming for Candy, Ain’t No BULL!
Here name means “brilliant star”, and her future is brighter because of you. Last week we had the opportunity to meet Slilma, the first of two university students who will be receiving one of the scholarships we mentioned in our previous update. We sat in a circle on the dirt patio outside Adilsa’s kitchen. Adilsa and Wilmar represented Tololamos, the organization with whom we are partnering. Miriam and Cully (and later Harlan) represented “Familia Lundgren.” Slilma sat cross-legged on a rickety plastic chair, at first slightly disengaged, in between her father, Paulo, and her mother, Beliza. Slilma is sixteen years old (students often complete secondary school here at that age) and hopes to study nursing and/or accounting at a public university in Leon. Her family is poor and does not have the means to send her to school. Mid-way through our meeting, Paulo took his hat off, revealing a partially-caved in skull on the left side of his head, the result of a serious bike accident while riding home from work early one morning last year. He can’t work now and receives very little in the way of disability. Beliza doesn’t have a job and spends her time caring for the family. They understand the value of education on a deep level, Paulo noting that “every boy or girl who doesn’t have an education has no future.” Adilsa read the scholarship requirements (maintain a good grade point average, treat others respectfully, no drugs, etc) then presented Slilma with $80 cash, a part of the scholarship used to help her buy books and prepare for school. When the new school year starts in February, Slilma will receive $40/month for 10 months of school each year (as long as she adheres to the scholarships requisites). The scholarship will continue until she finishes, which could be five years, as only one year seems an inadequate amount of time to support a dream. Slilma and her parents smiled with gratitude, and so did we.
Florinda the chicken has a funny habit. She lays exactly one egg almost every day at about 11:30am, just before lunch. She lays the egg smack in the middle of our 10-year old neighbor Leo’s bed, cackling proudly, at which point Leo retrieves the egg and places it in the kitchen while Florinda walks outside with her friends. We think Florinda is also in the same posse of chickens that make a beeline for our house every morning when they are let our of their hutch by Adilsa at about 5:20am, circling our patio in search of the last night’s dinner scraps while Miriam and Cully exercise to greet the day.
Another gang of chickens, Miriam and Carlos’s, also frequent our home, at times even having the moxie to enter our kitchen. When neighbor Miriam calls them with a “coouuueeeee” each evening, they cluck and flap home excitedly with astonishing speed. Upon eating a traditional meal of chicken, bananas, rice and vegetables that she recently prepared for us, however, we came to find out that their fervor to get home to roost is at times imprudent as the next day could be their last.
We have a two-foot high plastic Christmas tree, bought in the crowded Leon market near the lady we buy our beans and rice from, that is heavily laden with many of the hand-made jicaro ornaments our friend Fernando made for us. Olle made a paper star that sits atop. Fernando and his brother Yader brought the bulbs to our house recently, along with a bag of hand-picked roasted peanuts that we ate for a week while contemplating the local and global implications of the peanut industry that we have outlined previously.
On a previous visit to their house, Yader had shared with us a video of a scorpion he had found under a piece of wood. He and Fernando, 19 and 18 respectively, mentioned that they couldn’t even count the # of times they had each been stung, but that it was bastante (which basically means a lot). Our obvious interest in Yader’s scorpion must have led him to the erroneous conclusion that we in fact like having scorpions around, and along with the Christmas bulbs and peanuts, Yader brought a jar holding a giant scorpion he had caught. He kept saying, “don’t worry, don’t worry, while periodically taking the creature out on the concrete floor near our kitchen and prodding it with a stick. Miriam did a great job in showing culturally sensitive restraint – perhaps being gifted a scorpion was in fact a great honor – by adopting only her ‘polite’ shriek technique in the hopes that Yader would eventually take the hint that we already had enough pets, which he finally did.
We’ve averaged about a scorpion and a tarantula every 2 weeks. Not bad. The tarantula count went up last weekend when we had successive sightings (and subsequent killings) about 12 hours apart. The first tarantula, whom our cat dulce had already partially incapacitated, met it’s demise on the bottom of Cully’s flip-flop, just outside our kitchen. The second sighting began innocently enough with Miriam washing clothes last Saturday morning. Upon picking up a particularly crusty pair of Harlan’s shorts, she felt something slither up her arm. It wasn’t huge, but for Goodness sakes, it was a freaking tarantula! We all came running, and even got a good picture which we’ll post shortly. Our neighbor Aciles found two sticks and picked it up from amidst the clothes, chop-stick style. He placed it on the ground nearby. Aciles was clearly on the tarantula’s side as he, like Yader, kept saying ‘no problem, no worries’, his way of advocating strongly for saving its life. It’s cool that people here are connected to nature, they live so close to a wide variety of animals that everything, even scary spiders, are just a part of living here. But in the end the ‘Hey man, I just had a tarantula on my arm while washing clothes and I’m just a little freaked’ argument won out, and Aciles pushed her into the ground with a pointy stick.
After 3 months, we finally went volcano boarding. In fact volcano boarding can only be done in a few places on earth, one of which is on the side of Cerro Negro, an active volcano 30 minutes from our house by motorcycle. Cerro Negro only came into being in 1850 and thus holds the distinction of being the youngest, active volcano on earth. It is actually a beautiful mountain, about 700 meters high, that grows a few meters each year (or more during an eruption year, of which there have been about 28 since Cerro Negro was born). It’s blackness is beautiful in stark contrast to the verdant green, dormant volcanoes and fields that surround it. Boarding or ‘surfing’ the mountain requires that you rent a tabla (a basic wooden snowboard looking thing without the straps), carry it up the mountain (or carry yours and your kids) and then choose one of several trails to slide down. It’s wise to wear long pants and sleeves, goggles, gloves and even a whole bright orange or yellow jump suit you are provided if you go with a local tour company. You sit on the board like a sled (you can try standing but the word is that it’s exceedingly difficult), and launch over the side. By adjusting your feet and hand placement you can manage your speed to be either quite slow or super fast. The fastest person on record down the mountain was actually a German guy on a bike who clocked in at 172 km per hour. Familia Lundgren didn’t break any speed records on our first try but judging by the volcanic pebbles in our eyes and mouths we all hit a respectable pace. We can’t wait to go again when friends visit :).
We go to the nearby city of Leon as a family once, sometimes twice, a week. We walk everywhere, because taxi or bicycle cab ride costs add up and besides, Leon is a really walkable city. When we walk, we are often the cover of the Beatles 1969 classic album, Abbey Road. Cully is Lennon, and Harlan Starr follows closely behind. Olle McCartney is next, with Miriam Harrison usually bringing up the rear. We have shoes on, there aren’t a lot of crosswalks in Leon, and we are usually carrying multicolored grocery bags packed with the week’s essentials, but for a moment at least, we feel we are a band, moving and weaving as an out of place rock group to the city’s pulse.
Griteria, which literally translates to ‘the screaming’, or the ‘day of yelling’ happens every December 7th across Nicaragua. The holiday requires that you learn a phrase, ‘Quien Causa Tanta Alegria’, translated as ‘Who is causing so much Joy?’. Once you’ve got that in your tool box, you walk (in our case with a large group of about 14) down the narrow, dusty rounds of Tololar, dodging cow poop and other groups being pulled on big wagons by horses or oxen. You don’t approach every house, only those who have crafted a shrine to Mary somewhere out front, shrine’s you can usually spot from the road. You walk up, ask where all the joy is coming from, and the home’s occupants reply, ‘La Concepcion de Maria’, or ‘the Virgin Mary.’ Many of the homes for Mary are absolutely beautiful, and you can inspect them more deeply while bumbling through one of several traditional songs in Spanish. Each house that has a shrine is required by law (okay, by custom) to give you something in return. In this sense it is really both a Catholic holiday and also a day for the community to come together, and for those who have been blessed with more to give back. It’s kind of a mixture between Christmas Caroling and Halloween, because in addition to singing you bring a sack with you that is filled with candy, really sugary dried papaya, sweet drinks called yuppies, lollipops, bags of popcorn, and even large plastic bowls and cups, gifts that have come in very handy in our kitchen.
Our Griteria experience started earlier in the day with Miriam, Carlos and Marilyn giving us a large plate of food for lunch, a traditional meal of chicken (the same chicken Miriam had killed that morning), vegetables, rice, and even a few raisins for sweetness. Round 1 of “Pollo Relleno” was really delicious, as was round 2, the exact same meal being delivered two hours later by Paula and Santo, who live on the other side of Adilsa. We began our Griteria walk with mostly full bellies which became totally full during the two hour walk by virtue of copious sweets, many of which were consumed en route. Yader, Fernando and Jessica, who passed by on motorcycle in the dark, insisted that we stop by their house on our way home. We did, and after some small talk, four heaping plates of Pollo Relleno along with two large slices of bread were carried out. You know that feeling you get after Thanksgiving dinner when you can barely move and are happy to just lay on the couch and lapse into a mini-food coma? We had that, squared and possibly cubed, a feeling of fullness that was magnified in a not so positive way by Momma Yader’s retelling of the ingredients of her version of the meal, which included at least four freshly killed chickens, other parts of other chickens, undisclosed pig parts, and gaseosa (soda), the real origin of the dishes’ sweetness. We stumbled home from Griteria, less wondering who caused all the joy than what caused all our stomachaches. Actually, being part of Griteria was really special for our whole family, a slice of local culture, and not needing to eat for the next two days was just a bonus!
Miriam is a nurse, no question about it. We mentioned in an earlier update that she came to Leo’s aid when the side of Don Lionel’s house made a small whole in his head during a soccer game. Since then, Miriam has taken care of the other Miriam’s finger when she accidentally stapled it, tended to Carlos’s foot after a thorn sliced it during a nighttime motorcycle ride, massaged Adilsa, re-wrapped Miriam’s stomach wound multiple times after gall bladder surgery, re-wrapped Mariela’s bandage after wrist surgery, and cleaned Harlan and Olle’s numerous cuts and scrapes, including one Harlan got falling out of a coconut tree during a game of hide and seek. Most recently, our friend Minor came over – clearly the word that Flo Nightingale was in the house had spread – seeking help in cleaning a nasty cut that required several stitches he got playing barefoot soccer with friends. Everyone seems to know to come to Nurse Mimi, both due to her attentiveness and compassion, and because she brought with her to Nicaragua an arsenal of healing products that rivals the clinic in Tololar. When not playing nurse, she has acted as the resident pharmacist, dispersing various medications, including most recently allergy pills and pain medication to Don Lionel, who was suffering from post hernia-surgery groin pain, aggravated by excessive, seasonal allergy-induced sneezing. She has doled out drugs to our whole family, who have gotten wonked with allergies over the past two weeks, likely because of the change from winter to summer here. Your prayers and good thoughts are much appreciated, as allergies fall into that ‘we can deal for a while but this just really sucks on top of other hardships’ category. Given the way life unfolds here in Nicaragua, Miriam’s skills will continue to come in handy for sure.
The Christmas season ‘feel’ in Nicaragua is very different for us in a couple of ways. First, the stark difference between what we have and what our neighbors have in terms of material things is especially apparent. One neighbor was surprised that the lights we bought to string on our patio cost about $4. None of the other neighbors have lights (or Christmas trees for that matter) because in Tololar if you have $4 you don’t buy lights, you buy rice and beans. You don’t pay $5 for an extension chord, you just fix your crappy old one – with a machete (for the 20th time). In El Tololar, a few bucks is substantial, and people know where to put it to the best use.
It’s also a bit hard to get into the Christmas Season when it’s 90 degrees out (although we are not complaining :) and the only snow is termite dust from above or from the makeshift snow-making machine Olle crafted one day by rubbing a piece of wood against another, ‘Look Ma, snow!’ The most festive holiday music we hear from our neighbors (other than Felice Navidad when shopping in La Union Grocery Mart in Leon) is Esteban’s oft downright gaudy selection of local and international favorites, blared at various hours of the day. We asked Harlan and Olle what were some of the things they missed most about the season: cookies, the smell of home, lighting candles, friends, decorations, food, neighbors, skiing, and of course, family.
We attended the El Tololar high school promoccion (graduation) last Saturday as special guests and representatives of Tololamos. Thirty-nine secondary school students graduated (high school here lasts basically through 11th grade). Two of the students, Slilma (mentioned above) and Xochilt will have the chance to go to college because of scholarships we have committed to provide with your help. If you want to join the group supporting Slilma and Xochilt, and other projects here in El Tololar, we’d be honored to have you donate HERE. Prior to the actual ceremony, there was a ‘pre-ceremony’ at the local Catholic church. We stood in the back and tried to understand the pastor but only could catch a word here and there. Near the ceremony’s end, a commotion at the rear of the sanctuary caught our attention. We turned around to see a 5 foot ratonera (mouse killer) snake (our friend Chico gave a positive ID) slurking (slither-lurking) near the wall. Those around us were amused for a moment, and Olle got a little close for comfort (‘Look Ma, snake’) but a snake in church is just not that big a deal, and the service continued. At the high school (right next door), the graduation itself went off without a hilt, except for when Familia Lundgren missed our cue to sit in the special guest section, requiring that we walk – Beatles-style – across the courtyard with hundreds of eyes on the four gringos. Graduating from high school in Nicaragua is a really big deal, and we felt honored to have the chance to share in the day.
There is something surreal about holding a large plow and standing directly behind two even larger bulls while hollering at the oxen, ‘stop’, ‘go’, or ‘’other row’ in Spanish, sweating profusely and watching sporadic poop fall around you, a giant volcano smoking in the distance. Cully found himself in this very situation last week after having been invited by Nestor to continue to experience the whole process of yucca cultivation, an operation that has thus far included cutting yucca stalks to plant, planting (sembrar) yucca, throwing fertilizer on the seedlings, pulling weeds, and now cultivating the soil.
Waking up at 4:20am, Cully, Nestor and Carlos hopped on the family motorcycle (three grown men can easily fit on a cycle, and we have even seen five of six when you include grandmas and small children) and headed to the home of Nestor’s father, Raul. Raul’s neighbor had apparently borrowed the bulls, but upon arriving at his house he was found inebriated from the previous night’s activities and only capable of grunting that he thought the bulls must be on a walkabout. Nestor hopped on a horse like a real cowboy, and was back within 20 minutes with two bulls in tow. He showed Cully how to tie the yoke to connect the bulls, and in no time they were cultivating the soil (Cully bent over and in pain, Nestor working the oxen like a champ), using a technique of tilling that has not changed for hundreds, perhaps a thousand years. It has been an honor and a huge learning experience for us, to see the challenges that farmers like Nestor face here everyday, and to taste a small bit of it. The life of a Nicaraguan farmer is exceedingly hard and we hope that our involvement with Tololamos in Health, Education and Environment projects (all of which are either directly or indirectly connected to farming as Tololar’s heart continues to beat to an agrarian drum) will have a positive impact on people like Nestor.
Nestor, and the whole Rivas family, do not have easy lives. They’ve lived here on the property where we live for about 25 years. When they first moved here, they built Don Lionel’s house first and for many years, approximately 15 people lived together there. It was even smaller then, and somehow they crammed grandpas, sons, daughters, grandsons and granddaughters, aunts and uncles all into one room to sleep. Fifteen people in one not very big room? Think about it. But they did it. Over the years, whenever they could scrape up enough money, they would build another house for another family member, always completing the work themselves. They would build latrines (an interesting multi-week, multi-person process that involves horses to cart the dirt away and digging down, one shovel full at a time, to a depth of about 8 meters before constructing the frame with aluminum panels), plant fruit trees, dig wells, and exist, as one unit, with no electricity or running water until about 10 years ago. More houses were added (ours the most recent, which will be gifted to Miriam’s children -not Harlan and Olle, the other Miriam -when we leave) and more family members were born. They are a family unit, and they have eachother’s back, always.
In the past 3 ½ months, we have been blessed to know that they have our backs too. And vice-versa.
And thanks to all of you for having our backs! We are so grateful.
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