Living the “Nica” Life

My alarm sounds as I roll over making entirely too much noise on my little blue cot. I open my eyes and come face to face with the mangy mutt — barely even domestic enough to call a pet — named Princessa. She sits there, tail wagging, already begging for food I don’t possess before jumping through my mosquito net and landing in my lap. With the smell of wet dog already floating around me, I defended myself with my plastic nalgene water bottle, screaming at her to go outside, before she finally sulks off to roll in some mud, and I head off to the bucket bath.

“Just a typical Amigos morning,” I thought to myself.

This summer I lived in a small, very rural community outside of Matagalpa, Nicaragua, volunteering with the organization Amigos de las Americas. Teaching classes about things like children’s rights, helping gut chickens, milking cows and hiking mountains became my extracurricular activities. But despite how out of character this all seemed to me at one point, I was making a home in the most foreign place I had ever been in my life.

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Subdued yellow sunlight rose over the mountains as I trudged through the mud to take a bucket bath. 5:45 A.M.–the perfect time to go douse yourself in freezing cold water, am I right? I grabbed my towel, and the few toiletries I brought and headed to the bathing area: complete with a few rocks, some tarps hanging on sticks and even a bathroom curtain for some privacy. Those were the things I came to love.The simplicity of it all, the slow pace of life, and that attitude. The Nica attitude, that can only be summed up in the word “tranquilo.” I spent lazy mornings sitting on the front porch drinking coffee and planning lessons with my partners. Afternoons were spent exploring the community and hilly trails and eating meals with community members, before returning to teach campamentos. The campamentos, classes for the local youth, focused on themes such as children’s rights, gender equality, health, the environment and community development, knowledge that is inherent in the States, but hard to come by in Nicaragua.

Teaching ages 5-12 became a blessing, since my Spanish was about that of a six year old’s. It never ceased to amaze me how much fun the children could have with just a soccer ball or some crayons. Without access to cellphones, laptops, video games and even TVs they were forced to become innovative, imaginative and resourceful.

Following campamentos it was time for my afternoon siesta. Thinking all the time, translating, problem solving and forcing your brain to think in a language that isn’t intrinsic can really wear you out. Everyday from about 3:00-4:00 I allowed myself this lazy time. Time to journal, read, sleep or reflect on all that I was encountering in this new and different place.

Every day held a new and exciting experience, and I learned just how quickly you can form bonds with people — even if you’ve just met them, even if you don’t even speak the same language. But as much as I got to enjoy the benefits and beauty of Nicaraguan life, I also got to see the other side.

Xochilt, our super-involved youth counterpart, is 16 years old. She lives in a home of half-brick, half-mud and wood. The kitchen is roughly the size of my tiny bedroom at home and their living area is no bigger than a medium sized bedroom, separated by tarps into “rooms.” They live day to day, sometimes unsure whether or not they will have the money for dinner. Every morning, Xochilt takes the bus from her community of Piedra Colorada 25 minutes to the nearest city with a high school, San Ramon.

Transport costs 15 cordoba, the equivalent of 6 cents, but the burden is significant. Xochitl is one of the few youth in the community that attends school daily, but the economic strain is becoming too much. She has a passion for knowledge and education, but eventually she believes she will have to switch to Saturday school. This will take her from five full days of education a week, to only one–an immense sacrifice. It was hard to see this, knowing that if I wanted, I could finance her entire high school career with no more than a few month’s minimum wage from TCBY. I felt hopeless intruding on these peoples lives, knowing how things could be for them if they were just born into a different set of circumstances. Inspired young leaders like Xochilt could actually accomplish everything they dream of. But at the end of the day this is their life in the community, as it has been for generations, and I get to return to all the opportunities awaiting me in the States. It’s unfair. padding:0 10px;

After returning home, I been working on something I can do to help. My partners and I have continued to stay in contact with a women’s empowerment agency from Nicaragua, ADIC. We hope to fundraise in our own communities and contribute to ADIC’s efforts to give youth leaders scholarships for high school, and. eventually university education.

Settling back into my life here has had its ups and downs. As happy as I am to see my family and friends and not have to use a latrine, I miss the simplicity and stress-free life I was accustomed to. The life that comes with no ties to the electronics, materialism and consumerism I feel bombarded with here. To make matters worse, upon my return back to the States I got extremely ill with both a parasite and dengue fever. It seemed the adjustment period coming back home proved to be more difficult than my original adjustment to Nicaraguan life.

The six weeks I spent in Nicaragua changed me in so many ways, I’m sure I won’t even know the full extent for years. It wasn’t a typical summer of pools, nights out and the 4th of July, but it was the most rewarding summer of my life, and I can’t imagine having spent it any other way.