Santa Teresa - Sunday

I’m finishing up my second day in my training site of Santa Teresa.  It’s a small town of about 5,000 people about 40km southwest of Managua and I love it.  The town is awesome and my host family is so amazingly warm and welcoming it kinda almost makes me feel guilty.  My host mom is Thelma, the sweetest and most maternal woman I think I’ve ever met.  She has two sons in their early 30’s, one of whom, Luis, lives in the house with his wife Lizette and their 11 month old daughter Millet.  Thelma also has two daughters, Milagros and Thelma Leonela, 21 and 18, respectively.  It’s a really cool dynamic, because in some ways I feel like a big sister, but in many many more ways I feel as though I’m the tag-along little sister whom they have to explain everything to. 

The house is enormous and pretty with nice tile floors, a killer garden and patio, running water (sometimes), and electricity (sometimes). Holy amenities batman!  My room is about quadruple the size of my one at home, has six beds in it just for me (no joke, six of them), and I share a jack and jill bathroom with Leonela and Milagros.  I swear to god the girls in my house and about half the girls in Santa Teresa dress better than I do.  The standard of living is much lower than that in the states, and there are definitely a lot of families living in undeniable poverty, but the people are rich and generous in spirit.  The best thing about my training site is that I’m in the second lowest language group, not the lowest!!  Where would we all be without the simple victories?

My arrival coincided with the town’s semi-annual commemoration and celebration of their patron saint, you guessed it, Santa Teresa.  Because there’s still a considerable language barrier (nobody in the house speaks more than a few words of English, and my Spanish is downright embarrassing at times), I can’t get a full bio on Santa Teresa, but she was a writer and worked with the poor and seems like a thoroughly cool woman.  The first night Milagros was going to one of the parties that they hold this time of year, and terrified as I was I couldn’t pass up the invitation to join her.  They had a carnival for the little kids and families and a band and dancing for the young people.  And by band I mean a guy singing with a bunch of scantily clad women next to him shaking their asses.  By dancing I mean full on bumping and grinding.  All the while they had a projector playing his music videos, which consisted of him singing, the ladies shaking their asses, and him getting random people around Nicaragua to shake their asses with him.  And here I stand in the middle of it taller than almost everyone else with my blonde hair, blue eyes, chacos, and a polo shirt.  I should have just had gringa tattooed on my forehead.  Just when I thought it was not possible for another human being to look more out of place, in rolls a redheaded white dude in a wheelchair.  I almost fell on the floor laughing.  Nobody else got the joke.   

Thankfully I wasn’t forced to dance on my first night and instead forced conversation on a couple of the town’s youth (whom I’ll be attempting to work with during the three months I’m here), all of whom turned out to be studying industrial engineering.  I swear I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.  Besides providing a much needed opportunity to practice my Spanish, the whole night just made me realize how similar this is to back home.  The places and faces might have changed, but the way people interact with each other is truly universal. 

Sunday was the big fiesta for Santa Teresa.  I started the day out by going to mass with my host mom at the church a stone’s throw away from the house. ( As a little sidebar, this entire experience has felt completely surreal since the initial plane ride to Miami.  I’ve been saying since the beginning that everything is going to hit me all at once and come out in a big crying mess at the most socially inappropriate moment ever.   Gushing tears in the middle of mass.  Check and mate, mission accomplished.  The best part was because my Spanish is so bad I couldn’t really explain to Doña Thelma exactly what was going on, so I’m pretty sure she just thinks I’m either totally weird or really into Jesus. )  All I could figure out in advance about today was that it was going to involve a lot of people riding horses.  Thank god they explained the hand gesture for horse in my pre-training workshops; otherwise I’m pretty sure I would have expected today to bring a bunch of people having sex all over the streets of Santa Teresa.

Once church was over, the rest of the extended came over for lunch and to watch the horses.  And by extended family I mean about nine-hundred relatives.  Once again, there I was standing around awkwardly trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to carry on a conversation with complete strangers.  Unsurprisingly everyone was super nice and friendly and made me feel as at home as humanly possible.  My favorite part of the day was lunch which consisted of the customary rice, beans, chicken, plantains, and… I shit you not, chow mein.  If I knew Chinese Buddha delivered to Nicaragua I would have come here years ago. 

After much anticipation it was finally time for the horses I had heard so much about.  My interpretation of the whole thing, and I’m sure it’s totally skewed, was that every single man woman and child between the ages of 5 and 90 within a 20km radius got dressed up, got drunk, got their horses drunk, danced on the ground and on their horses backs, and had a parade through the streets of Santa Teresa.  And what parade wouldn’t be complete with tons of drunken musicians in the backs of trucks and more women shaking their asses on top of the parade’s one and only float, sponsored by the local beer Toña, all in the glory of Santa Teresa.  That Teresa must have really known how to throw down.  I can’t think of a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon.  Tomorrow marks the end of free time and the beginning of six-hour-long language classes.  Not exactly fun, but crucial for my survival in Nica.

Managua!

I can honestly tell you I never thought this day would arrive.  After waiting for approximately 147 years, I finally arrived in Nicaragua Thursday afternoon.  Ladies and gentlemen, round of applause.  The first day was basically a big blur.  Today was a lot better.   We got to meet a bunch of the support staff, all of whom were really awesome.  Nicaragua is considered a high performing post, and after meeting some of the people running the show I can totally understand why.  There are 21 people in my training group, all of whom are health volunteers, six males and 15 females.  Quite a change from my usual 72% male at Georgia Tech. 

 We took our language assessment exam, which will determine what language training group we are in.  We will be split up into five training groups, all in different cities, but all are within close proximity of each other.  Can’t say my language exam went well as I basically couldn’t remember how to conjugate verbs in anything besides present and past tenses.  So glad I pushed back graduation to take those additional Spanish classes.  Oh well. 

We also got to take a tour of Managua, the capital where we’ve been staying, which was awesome.  It ‘s definitely not what most people would describe as devastatingly beautiful, but the natural landscape is absolutely stunning with lakes and mountains.  It was also just really cool to see in person all of these places that hold such a historical significance that I had previously only learned about in a book.  We also got mosquito nets today, so now I can totally pimp out my crib.  I had the lovely experience of my first chloroquine pills for malaria prevention.  I had heard so much about how awful they tasted, but they really weren’t that bad.  We’ll see how I feel after weekly doses for two years.

Tomorrow is a really big day.  We find out what training city we will be placed in, as well as the other trainees who will be living there with us.  I also move in with my host family tomorrow, and I am really hoping I like them.  I’ll live with my host family for three months, and they have the potential to make or break training, so everyone say a prayer for me tonight.  Tomorrow also marks the end of free wireless.  So sad, but I gotta cut the cord sometime.  That’s all for now, wish me luck in my training site. 

And so it begins…

I hope 2009 finds everyone healthy, wealthy, and wise in mind, body, and spirit.  As America just took a huge step into the future with the swearing in of our 44^th president, I am preparing to also take a giant step into my own future.   I just arrived in beautiful Miami for the start of 27 months serving as a Community Health Promoter in Nicaragua with the Peace Corps.  Whew, it’s a mouthful just to say, let alone actually do.  I know, everyone is really proud of me, I’m going to make a difference in a lot of people’s lives, this is going to change my life, etc. etc. etc.  You probably have a million questions also, like where the hell is Nicaragua and why would anyone actually want to go there? Have patience, all of those questions will be answered eventually.  I want to first tell a little story about how I’ve managed to even get to this point.  You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll be amazed by feats of patience, determination, and karmic retribution.   I tend to ramble on occasion and this will definitely be the longest post you’ll have to put up with, but try and stay with me here, you won’t regret it.

I began the application process for the Peace Corps in July of 2007, so to say this is a long time coming is an understatement to say the least.  The application process is notoriously frustrating, so I should have been prepared for the difficulties I faced, but of course being the eternal optimist I assumed everything would be a snap.  Oh man was I wrong.  I received my first nomination as a healthcare volunteer in Latin America leaving in June of 2008.  I found out two weeks before graduation in May of 2008 that I had been medically deferred until March 2009 because of a paperwork error following a Lasik procedure.  First sign that maybe I had some really really bad karma coming my way.  I would have to go through a lengthy and stressful appeals process that made my initial departure date infeasible.  So I suddenly found myself accepting my diploma from Georgia Tech (an engineer graduating with honors no less, still can’t believe that happened!) with no job, no real money, nowhere to live, and not a clue what to do with the rest of my life.  Not a very good feeling considering how hard I worked to get to that point.

Fortunately, my stubborn streak reared its ugly head and I decided that there was no way I was giving up this dream so easily.   It was following this initial disappointment that I began to realize how lucky I was to have so many strong and supportive people in my life.  I had no shortage of people offering up everything from a shoulder to cry on to a couch to sleep on.  I promptly packed up what little belongings I had left and moved in with my kickass friend Rick (who I’m still eternally grateful to) in Pensacola to do what every good engineer does: wait tables and work on my tan.  Not exactly a great career move, but the break was much appreciated. 

All was going well until I got my second karmic kick in the ass.  I showed up to work on a delightful Sunday morning only to find the still smoldering remains of my former place of employment.  Shitting my pants doesn’t even begin to cover it.  The place had been struck by lightning the previous night and burned to the ground.  I’ll repeat, shitting my pants doesn’t even begin to cover it.  I quickly assessed the situation, which was forty servers suddenly out of work in a fairly small town, and decided the chances of finding a new job in Pensacola were slim to none.  I decided to lick my wounds, pack up my things, and head home to Atlanta with my tail between my legs.   Lets just say I know how to pick my battles.

So there I am, sharing my friend (who I am also eternally grateful to) Meghan’s couch with five stray kittens she had adopted (true story), working an even worse serving job, and seriously thinking that I had made a terrible mistake by still chasing this dream.  Thankfully I had my first glimmer of hope.  After several months of waiting, the Peace Corps appeals board finally looked over my file and overturned my medical deferment.  Whoo hoo!  Now I just had to play the waiting game while headquarters looked over my file and gave me a new assignment.

I then really took a step up in life and did what every girl dreams of: moved into my brother’s basement.  Once again, not glamorous but I was eternally grateful to still have a roof over my head.  I received my new assignment, still healthcare and Latin America but I wasn’t getting to leave until January of 2009.  I was definitely not stoked about having to wait until January, but at least things were starting to look up.  For about a week.  I then lost my second job in as many months when the restaurant I was working at closed down.  Seriously, if you own a restaurant please don’t let me within 20 feet of it.  I beg of you. 

I found yet another serving job, this one even shittier than the previous two.   Freakin economy, at this point I was just lucky to have a job.  I managed to secure not only a permanent residence, but a killer house with great roommates in a perfect neighborhood that I could actually afford.  Triumph of the century.  My good luck continued when I finally received the package that every future volunteer dreams of: the invitation kit.  (As a sidebar, if you get a chance please ask me about finding my invitation kit, there really isn’t enough time to do the story justice here, but I promise you won’t be disappointed.)  Not only did it have my departure date and more a more specific job description, but this was when I learned of my country of service, Nicaragua. It was official!  Through this entire process there were only two countries that was really hoping and praying for, and Nicaragua was one of the two. Thrilled doesn’t even begin to cover it.  Luck was finally back on my side.  For the first time I began to think that this was actually going to happen for me.  For the next couple months all I had left to do was play the waiting game again until my departure, which I’d become a master at in the past year and a half. 

There’s really two things that I’ve taken from this consistently excruciating process, the first being the importance of patience and persistence, two virtues that will serve me will in the upcoming years.  The second is how truly blessed I am to be surrounded by such a wealth of supportive, loving, and trusted family and friends.  Without all of ya’ll I NEVER would have made it to this point. I love and am thankful for every single one of you.  Remember, I’m just a plane ride away. (hint hint)

Whew, everyone take a breath.  Ok, take one more.  Awesome.  Now that everyone’s caught up to speed, I’ll give you the cliff notes version of what’s in store for me over the next 27 months.  My official job description is a Community Health Promoter, which is essentially health education.   I fly to Nicaragua tomorrow, where I’ll spend three months living with a host family and participating in intense language, cultural, and vocational training.  From there I get assigned to a post where I’ll be for two years until the end of my service.  No, I don’t know where I’ll be during the two years.  I don’t even really know where I’ll be during training (they like to surprise you like that) but it will most likely be within a couple hours of the capital Managua.  I could go into more detail, but I figure I’ll hook more readers by spicing things up with a little suspense.  I’m tricky like that. 

I could easily spend the next three days talking about the awesomeness that is Nicaragua, but for the sake of everyone’s sanity I’ll abstain until a later date.  Seriously, just Wikipedia it.  I’ve said enough for one day.  Or, just wait until I arrive there and receive detailed firsthand accounts of its greatness. 

I could also easily spend the next three days talking about the seemingly infinite number of thoughts racing through my head right about now, but I woke up at 5am and would rather sum it up in two words: oh shit.  Maybe once I take a nap I’ll be more in the mood for articulating my emotions.  Until next time…