Leaving the Airport in Houston
I’ve actually been here a week already, but the internet is spotty, and I’ve been using all my opportunities to check my email. I’m currently in El Transito, Nicaragua, a small fishing town about an hour outside Managua (the capital) on the Pacific coast.
El Transito, Nicaragua
El Transito is not exactly as I expected. For one, the town is much less poor than Bwiam, where I spent last summer. Additionally, the food is not only near-plentiful, but delicious. Even the chickens than run around the area are fatter, and there are more dogs – from which breeds are almost distinguishable. I’m developing a theory that you can rank per-capita GDP of a region by how different the average dog looks from the nondescript brown shorthaired mutt so common in the developing world.
There are cows, pigs, and horses wandering around, too. The horses use this property, Rancho Fifo, as a byway to move from one street to the other, as it has big open gates at either end.
I’m here as a sort-of emissary from Rice doing construction work and teaching English. Beth started organizing this trip independently in the Fall, but worked extensively with Mac and secured a grant to send us here. The whole operation is orchestrated by Julie Edwards, who was driving through Central America 3 years ago looking to build a beach house. Mesmerized by the sunset over the Pacific, she found herself stranded, a woman alone in a rental car at night. One of the local families let her stay with them, and she decided that instead of building a beach house, she would instead dedicate her resources to building a community center in El Transito.
Sunset over the Pacific, El Transito, Nicaragua
So that’s what we’re working on. The community center was pretty much finished last week, but we’re still moving dirt to fill in holes and carting wood around. There’s a beautiful little classroom in the center, as well as a room that will be converted into a sort of dorm for volunteers. It’s all cement, still unpainted, but (the beautiful part is) the cement keeps everything cool inside, and there are fans on the ceiling. And lights. And outlets with standard American plugs from which to charge, for example, Beth’s laptop. We work under the direction of Oscar, a man in his mid-twenties (?) who serves as the project’s site manager. He’s great. His new wife, Belkis, cooks us fantastic lunches.
We’re also, as I mentioned, teaching English classes. We teach one class at around 10AM (meaning we teach at 10 Nicaragua time, which usual translated to 10:30 or later) and split up to teach 2 more at 4; one for los jovenes (teenagers, mostly ages 13-15) and ninos, ranging from 6-13.
Beth and Manivel teach los jovenes, and we concentrate on whatever topic they ask us to address, but usually end up wandering around the point. The overarching idea, though, is to improve pronunciation by engaging in conversation with native English speakers. Our conversations, though, have been pretty limited… it’s hard when everyone is at a different level.
Kathleen and Lisa teach los ninos at the primary school at the top of the hill, and the classes usually follow the same pattern as a Montessori kindergarten or first grade. Lisa is Beth’s sister, and doesn’t go to Rice – she’s studying to be an elementary school teacher, so even though her Spanish is extremely limited, she’s in her element. We’ve been concentrating on basic vocabulary and conversational questions, so naturally, everyone’s favorite activity is (following a round of “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes”) dancing the Hokey Pokey. Pronouncing the word “shoulders,” though, seems a nigh-impossible task.
Kathleen and Lisa teaching at the Primary School
Some of the students are really exceptional. I’ve befriended a girl named Roxana, who is pretty good, and a boy named Julio adopted Kate and Beth last year and is still hanging around. Of the adults, one woman, Gina, is very good – she spent a while in the states when she was in high school, and understands English quite well, though she likes to practice speaking with us. She’s amazing. We’re all in love with a nine-year old named Amilcar. Amilcar doesn’t come to our classes – he’s a troublemaker with a bad family situation – but we all feel for him and want his situation to improve. If I could adopt Amilcar, I would.
Roxana
We haven’t done a lot outside of our official capacity. We have, though, taken advantage of the hotel’s natural saltwater pool. I’ve also used our long walks between the hotel and the town (it’s about 1 km, or 20 minutes on the hot, soft basaltic sand) to collect tons of shells and sand dollars that wash up in the tide. The waves are too fierce and the currents too strong for swimming, but they’re incredible… the waves often exceed 10 feet, and crash over basalt breakers that resemble small mountains. Over the weekend, during which I read 2 books and played Hearts and BS for hours, over 2 feet of sand (we estimate) were eroded from the beach in storms, revealing the weathered sandstone bedrock below.
Manivel, in awe of my Prowess at Cards
We’ve also befriended the cook/housekeeper/yoga instructor at the hotel, Lindsay. She left Santa Cruz, CA, four years ago after she graduated from high school, and has been traveling around the world ever since. She’s spending a few weeks working in Nicaragua with her husband, Ben (they met in Australia) before traveling around Central America for a while longer and going home (finally) in July.
Hotel Grounds
Sunset from the Hut, Looking North
I’m learning useful vocab, too. For example, muñeca = puppy, garrapata = tick, pinca = tweezers, and navaja = Swiss Army knife, or rather, any of those multi-tools with lots of different implements that fold together. And that’s in the last 10 minutes. Oscar has a new muñeca named Fox, and he is really, really adorable. The hotel, too, has a kitten named Zanita, or little carrot. She’s hilarious.
Zanita
Fox, with Beth
I fly to DC on Sunday (it’s Tuesday) but hopefully I’ll be able to post again before I leave!
