From "Creed," by Dom Helder Cámara

I want to believe that the whole world

Is my home, the field I sow,

And that all reap what all have sown.

I will not believe that I can combat oppression out there

If I tolerate injustice here.

I want to believe that what is right

Is the same here and there

And that I will not be free

While even one human being is excluded.

Friday, June 24, 2011

(A non-Nicaraguan´s somewhat useful view of) Nicaraguan Politics 101

Psychological sidenote…lots of things are hitting me hard lately. Well, at least my blogs will be more interesting now.

A little more than a quarter through JVC in-the-field living. WHAT. My relationships are deepening and I am more aware of the situations of oppression that affect my friends here. One of these oppressive cycles is the Nicaraguan political sphere. Knowing, however, that my blog readers know very little about this (unless you´re a Vega, I´m aware they make up a large percentage of my fanbase), I have decided to divulge an incredibly partial story of this chaos. Prepare yourself.

The two main characters in my grossly abbreviated version are the United States and Daniel Ortega.

Ortega is the head of the Frente Sandinista de Liberación Nacional (FSLN), the revolutionary party which ousted Nicaragua´s most infamous leader, the dictator Somoza, in the 70s—the only revolution to ever ¨succeed¨ in Central America. Certainly, that´s saying something. The Sandinistas saved Nicaragua from a US-funded tyrant, and followed that up with a nationwide, unsurpassed literacy campaign. But it´s also saying something that Ortega´s face is more common in Nicaragua than Kim Jong Il´s in Corea del Norte. He´s currently running for a third term as president in November…which is against the Constitution. So he´s trying to declare the Constitution unconstitutional, and to brainwash people, there´s FSLN propaganda on every street, in every house, blasted from every radio station. VIVA DANIEL is the most common graffiti slogan, as if the people want him to live forever. Their billboards, quite inappropriately, are lazer pink and blue with yellow and green writing—straight out of Alice in Wonderland. Their slogans are ¨You win!¨, ¨United for the Common Good!¨, ¨Christian, Socialist, in Solidarity,¨ and, my favourite, ¨We continue changing Nicaragua!¨ I´m thinking…you´ve been in power twenty-plus years and Nicaragua is still the second poorest country in the hemisphere. I think someone else should get a turn.

I must admit that FSLN is doing wonderful things for certain people. A couple years back they built a million-dollar bridge leading into the neighbourhood where I work, allowing local residents and I to cross into El Recreo without entering a trash ditch. Also, in the mountain community where we went to language school, FSLN is funding a solar-powered irrigation system. But you never see the good works of the government without a huge announcement that Ortega did it, so you should vote for him in November, thank you very much.

All of this propaganda would be fine, I say, if opponents to the party were free to speak their minds.

This is not the case.

One of the only surviving opposition parties, the Partido Liberal Constitucionalista (PLC), recently approached the Supreme Electoral Council (CSE) in hopes of submitting an official plea that Ortega´s bid for re-election is illegal—they´re right. But there were two hiccups with this plan. That morning, the Juventud Sandinista (JS) showed up on the steps of the CSE. Most of JS is formed by high-school drop-outs who are compensated by Ortega´s cronies, in good grades or cash wads, to do whatever he says. They pitched ten tents and said they would be camping in front of the CSE in the name of ¨peace and justice and free elections.¨ PLC couldn´t pass them to submit their election protest. So much for free elections. Oh, these kids were also accompanied by the national police, who are paid by—you guessed it—Ortega.

Second problem with the PLC´s plan. An article in one of the only havens of free speech left in the country, El Nuevo Diario, publicized that Ortega has been channelling millions of dollars into the pockets of upper CSE officials, guaranteeing their loyalty. Chances are, if PLC made it into the building, the plea would have been ignored, because the chamber is full of his beneficiaries.

Some, well, ¨fun¨ side notes connected with this case. The journalist who exposed the corruption in the CSE received multiple death threats afterwards, which have been submitted to Nicaragua´s human rights watch. And El Nuevo Diario, which has been drowning in the current economy, has announced that it´s going to be sold to a prominent Sandinista family who has the cash to run it. So much for free speech.

More evidence of Sandinista manipulation? A couple months ago, the opposition parties together announced that they would be organizing a march to—you guessed it—protest Ortega´s candidacy in November, which is, I repeat, illegal according to the Constitution. FSLN found out, and suddenly, every few blocks I came across a pink-blue poster announcing a ¨March for Peace and Justice¨ organized by JS (do they do anything new?) which just happened to be taking place on the same day and at the same time and place as the opposition´s march. The latter never occurred. I went to the market that day and was thronged by hundreds of Sandinista youth singing peace songs. No opposition in sight. The Sandinistas were too many. I do feel, sometimes, that I live in a temporarily subdued war zone.

But if you think Ortega sounds like a bully, wait til you here about the guy he helped overtake. This guy´s name is the United States. He has ransacked Central America for two hundred years, using the profit to make his richest citizens richer. If you need evidence of that and don´t plan on living here any time soon, I can send you more than a few book titles. Until then, suffice it to know that the US embassy in Managua is the biggest compound in the country, a marble and glass fortress surrounded by a twenty-foot cement wall decked in security cameras. I´ve seen it up-close when I entered to apply for Nicaraguan residency, and at a couple protests. The compound even includes apartments and a supermarket so that employees don´t have to enter the real Nicaragua. I can also tell you that ¨American Clothing¨ is all the rage (even if it is made in China), English is the coolest thing no one can afford since Hannah Montana on cable TV, and I am treated like a princess thanks to my skin and hair color…a privilege that has come in handy when I need a toilet and get ushered to the front of the line, but leaves me with knots in my stomach.

And that, friends, is the same feeling I´ve got now that I´ve offered my view on current Nica politics. Don´t take too much to heart, because there´s not much to be done about it. Yeeha. I mostly just wanted to share a little of the reality here with you. Obama´s not so bad. And no matter how many times I find myself protesting outside an American embassy, I´m grateful to at least feel safe lambasting my own government. This is a privilege Nicaraguans don´t have.

Monday, May 30, 2011

A Special Thank You...

...to Blanca Vega, Jessica Vega, and the rest of that clan, and to Beth and Eric Colbert Moline. Last night was Christmas for me. Seeing Blanca was beautiful and I miss you all very much and owe you lots of hugs.

Káterin: An Angela´s Ashes Attempt

Everyone from the States, particularly those with Irish ancestry, should read Angela´s Ashes.

Now then. I have started making frenemies (somedays she hugs me, somedays she doesn´t want to talk to me and sticks her nose up in my direction) with a very expressive, very smart ten-year-old who always comes to the library alone, first to do homework in a hurry, then to read stories. Though I shouldn´t say I have favourites, she´s one of them, because she´s one of the only Nicaraguan kids I know who reads for fun.
I also know a little bit about her family, home and reality. I recently finished reading Angela´s Ashes and have composed this little blurb about her life, through her eyes, in the manner of Frank McCourt´s memoirs.

Me llamo Káterin. I am ten years old. I have brown eyes, short, straight brown hair, and pig lips, dice mamá. I think I am prettier than some of my friends but I can´t ever get all the dirt off my face and arms and my shirts are all too small so my stomach shows and I think if I were clean and had clothes that fit I would be prettier.

I live across el cause (the channel) from the library. There used to be water but now it´s full of trash, so mama laughs that even though we don´t have a water river, we have a trash river. My house is made of tin and cardboard. When I pass the adobe houses with two floors on the way to school I wonder if the kids in them get their own rooms and have toilets and kitchens.

I go to school most days. Some days the teacher has a mandato to do or she´s sick so she doesn´t come and I go home. Some days papá is at the house and says I need to stay home to watch Miguelito and when I say I have to go to school he hits me and I already have too many marks on my body so I listen to him and stay home. But I go back to school when he leaves and he can´t do anything about it because he is barely ever home anyway.

My favourite place to go, other than the beach where we only go on Easter and it´s always full of people and the sun almost melts my skin so sometimes I don´t like the beach, is the library. It is colourful and full of pictures of kids from around the world and books I want to read someday.

I like reading most when I am not hungry or worried about Miguelito and when my head doesn´t hurt, because then I am not distracted and can read forever, at least until the library closes. I also like going to the library because they listen to me no matter what I am saying. I sometimes laugh because Heather says all the time that she doesn´t understand me, and then I say, ¨So why are you listening?¨ And then she laughs too. Clara, the one who always wears pretty skirts, touches my hair like mamá used to. And Eliezer and Damaris are always arguing and it makes me laugh. I like to laugh.

My favourite thing about the library is that they have a cabinet that Heather, the new librarian, says has 2,000 stories inside. When she opens the door to show me I feel like my mamá just put a big tray of dulces on my bed and I can eat all I want. Except books are better than dulces because they don´t disappear and you can stay reading a book longer than it takes to eat a dulce. And a dulce goes inside you, but you go inside a book. What I mean is, when I read I like to imagine the castles and green and smells of bread around me. They make the dust and heat go away.

It´s late and I´ve been at the library for two hours. Mamá will be mad but I don´t care because I can always come back tomorrow and the cabinet will always be there.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

5 months!

Happy spring. In Nica, and perhaps wherever you find yourself, it is a time of renewal and of change. A few days ago, the first rain of invierno (winter) fell, signaling the start of the rainy season, although it’s currently 95 degrees without a cloud of mercy in sight.Además, I’m five months, or almost one-fourth, of my way through life as a Nica JV. WHAT. Incredulity aside, I would like to share the movements of my soul based on that observation. I feel that I am settled in…I no longer double-take when piling on to a crowded bus, or hand-washing clothes, or getting diarrhea. I feel comfortable in community and inaugurated into my library position. Though I still feel the pangs when a co-worker or Nicaraguan friend shares some of her poverty, telling me of her murdered cousin or pregnant 16-old-daughter, these moments too have passed into a zone of acceptance.The question is, what next? Because it’s wonderful that I’m currently comfortable, but I am also sensing that I am ready for more. A few minutes ago, I was reading Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed in a rocking chair, contemplating popular education and solidarity, when an ice cream vendor passed our barred windows, ringing bells to announce his business. He wore a torn baseball cap from LA, had bug-eyes and was soaked in sweat. He strained against the weight of his ice cream as he pushed it up our dirt alley beneath the sun.I was struck by the world of difference between us. Here I am, comfortable as a JV in Nicaragua, and there are the Nicaraguans, the workers, the hungry, the oppressed, with whom I am forming relationships. Do they feel comfortable with the situations in which they find themselves? My co-worker Yelba goes home to an abusive husband and a load of her children’s laundry every night, and comes to work the next day having shrugged it off. She has accepted it. Is that fair? Where do I fit in?And so, about to start the second quarter of my Nicaragua time, I am ready to dive deeper into relationships, to make more of an effort to be uncomfortable…because I have grown through my initial discomfort, and I am ready for more.I challenge you to read and reflect on Dom Helder Camara and the following poem Pry Me off Dead Center. They very much touch my heart in its current state.Thank you for reading and thinking about what you have read. No go out and set the world on fire. You know what to do.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

New Photos on Flickr, Plus Three-Week Word Vomit

Hello everyone! Firstly, since a picture´s worth a thousand words, you should check out my new Flickr photos. I´ve included my worksite, retreat with the community in the mountainous north, and a pilgrimage to El Salvador for the Anniversary of the Martyrdom of Oscar Romero. Will have to caption them next time, since uploading the videos (of dancing with Casa Romero, and singing ¨Wild Rover¨ with a Northern Irishman on flute and Thomas on guitar) took up all of my internet time. La Garnacha was beautiful, a farming community in the cooler north where you can see Honduras and the two highest volcanoes in Nicaragua. We sat around candles deep into the night. We brought guitars out to a field underneath the stars and sang Bob Dylan songs. We took a sunrise hike to a nearby hill. We ate cheese made in the house next to our cabin. El Salvador was peaceful. Interesting, since all my Nicaraguan co-workers told me to be careful in such a gang-infested city. But there is strength in numbers, and the Casa de la Solidaridad community took care of us, and there´s nothing quite like marching through a dangerous area of downtown, surrounded by 10,000 Salvadorans, Central Americans, and gringos in the name of peace. Some pictures on flickr. Work is right. Right for me. I am growing to love children, their energy in spite of hunger and abuse, though they require much patience. We are preparing a Book day celebration. I´ve had fun dancing lately. A Rio-imitation Carnival passed through town, and three friends and I joined the crowd to see the parading dance troupes, decked-out in scanty glitter with trombones (yes dad! great brass!) and Caribbean drums bringing up the rear. That´s all for now. I am happy, healthy, challenged. Gracias a Dios. Peace friends, H