Book Review: Walk in the Woods

A Walk in the Woods: Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail

Bill Bryson is funny. Let’s just get that out of the way. Ok. This travel journal recounts the exploits and adventures of Bryson and his friend, Katz, as they, like so many others, try to walk the entire Appalachian Trail. For those of you who don’t know, the AT is more than 2,000 miles long and you have to climb to the highest point in almost every state on the East Coast. Spoiler Alert: they don’t climb the whole thing in this book. But that’s not the point. I will also brag a little in that I have done sections of the AT (including the great Katahdin, which Bryson does not summit). But he has summited Mt. Washington in New Hampshire, which is still on my bucket list. But that’s not the point. It’s not the competitive athletic nature that abounds in this novel. Quite the contrary, Bryson mixes anecdotal accounts of the day-to-day, with its typical bumbles and blunders, with lesser-known information about the history of the trail and the nature and government surrounding it. Granted the majority of this information comes when both men are still invigorated by the initial days in the south, but I appreciated Brysons respect for the little towns that he stumbles upon and what they used to be.  I didn’t know about the dangerous Pennsylvania coal fire towns or that the AT was originally meant to be a string of hostels and basically vacations and retreats above treeline, which, depending on who you ask, it kind of is. But my favorite parts resound with the funny frustration of preparing for an adventure that sounds much better in your head than when you are schlepping along ridgelines; the packing list, the food, the backpack posture, the weight, where to clip things, your first time at the outing gear store with the guy who is clearly (ridiculously even) more experienced and intense and excited about carabeaners (not sure how to spell that) than you. And then there are the bears. Pardon my French, but the best line of the whole book comes as Bryson is describing what he would do if not one, but 4 bears, came into his tent: “ Why, I would die, of course. Literally shit myself lifeless. I would blow my sphincter out my backside like one of the unrolling paper streamers you get at children’s parties- I daresay it would even give a merry toot- and bleed to death in my sleeping bag.”  Bears are an issue along the AT, but nowhere near to the obsessive degree to which Bryson makes them out to be. But it’s still funny. And the characters along the trail are priceless, including Chicken John who keeps getting lost on the trail and the woman who keeps clearing her ears by snot-rocketing. But it’s the purposeful meditation that comes with putting one foot in front of the other, and becoming “a walker” that was the most powerful. Walking through nature and history is one thing, but having the fortitude and the discipline (or the lack of social life) to decide to partake in some of the most grueling walking there is on the East Coast, takes a personality that one might say is similar to that of those that would join the Peace Corps. You know what you are getting into in the outline, but not in the details, not in the day-to-day. And it is the same personality that has the ability to adapt to the daily challenges and also incorporate breaks and rewards in an otherwise punishing and awkward life decision. And most importantly, as Bryson comes to terms with not having actually completed the full length of the AT, it is about knowing your limitations and taking joy in all the accomplishments, getting a great deal more out of the experience that the start and end points. And don’t care what anybody says: if you climbed one mountain, you hiked the AT and if you lived in a foreign country for 27 months working for development, you did the Peace Corps. 

Heads Up It's a long one to update everyone since Thanksgiving

The Medical Saga that led to the Menagerie

I had heard so many stories of PCVs being gifted pets by their community or taking in strays. The Volunteer who came before me had 2 dogs. And did I tell you she had 2 dogs. By the way, as every member of my community says, she had two dogs….and she left them both here, where they cried for weeks after she left. So, my community is not so much concerned with my having pets as they are with what will happen to said pets after I finish my service. Nice. But anyway, to start, I was promised a puppy German Shepherd, Traviesa, whom many of you have seen in pictures on this blog. I made the amateur mistakes of believing the word of a Nicaraguan (this may sound harsh, but you will understand once you’ve lived here) and falling in love with an animal that wasn’t under my rood yet. I then left for IST, or Training, for the last weekend in November. This was followed shortly thereafter, with the Medical Saga of 50 Shades of Diarrhea. Needless to say, the Medical Staff wanted to check me out. Because I was in Managua on a weekend, the Bioanalysis lab was closed and the Medical Staff preferred Metropolitano, the state-of-the-art hospital that is even nicer than Porter Hospital in my hometown. It’s actually kind of disgusting and sad how developed this one little spit of land is in a country that is just one step above Haiti. But I digress….

So Metropolitano apparently can email you your test results or you can check them online with a PIN. I have never had a problem with giving blood before, but Mr. It’s-Sunday-so-it’s-a-slow-day-and-I-am-the-worst-male-nurse-ever decided to go fishing around in my arm and then had the nerve to tell me to calm down, breathe, and drink some water. I did more than 10 tests over the last 2 weeks; blood, platelets, urine, parasite, amoebas, cryptosporidium (no idea on this one), the works! I had stayed in a hotel in Jinotega for the week prior to IST because I self-diagnosed a bacterial infection and a fever. The test results in Jinotega pointed to not one but 2 bacterial infections (2 for the price of one) and it’s quite likely that at least one was the same infection from the week before.  I stayed in the hotel to be closer the lab and have a little more control over my diet (and be closer to a modern toilet and hot water). The results from Metropolitano came back with lower bacterial counts (yay for antibiotics) but a new yeast infection. Oh boy! But that came two days after the fact, because the entire hospital network was down, and the Peace Corps Office was closed on Monday. Thank God for the pool at the hotel! The PCMO I had seen most often also wanted to check me for parasites that do not show in other tests, so between walking back and forth to the office, the hotel, and the lab,  I checked my email.

 There was a general email to all PCVs titled “Cats.”  A volunteer in Masaya had found a stray cat in her house and had begun taking care of it when it has given birth to 4 kittens in the next couple of days. This poor girl is not a cat person and is about to COS (finish her service) on the 14^th of December. So she wanted to know if anyone wanted some cats. Well, in my current medically downtrodden and emotional state, I replied that sure I would take them. She texted me asking how many I wanted. I replied that they looked too young to separate and she replied that it would be best to keep them all together. Sure I’ll take them all. And, thus I spent a week in Managua as “that girl with the kittens” moving from hotel to hotel with a big cardboard box with holes punched into it. Needless to say, all the other Volunteers staying in the hotels wanted to see and ooooo and ahhhhh over Mom and kits. And a big thanks to Hotel Los Pinos for letting me keep them in their hotel while I went to appointments.

By Thursday I was more than ready to leave, and the tests had all come back negative. Still was not feeling 100%, but once the tests come back negative, there is no reason for the PCMO to keep you in Managua.  The doctor asked me how much of my current situation might be psychological………………………………yeah no not going there. She did offer to send my report to a specialist and to the Medical Office in Washington to see if there was anything a new pair of eyes might be able to get. But, with the holiday season coming up, that might take a little while. So I gathered my things at the hotel, shoved Momma Cat into the box and tried duck taping it shut with the help of Hotel Staff, grabbed the bag of worms (I was also carting worms since IST to hopefully use for vermiculture-they did not make it sadly). Momma Cat managed to escape in the taxi, but the driver helped me shove her back in before finding out that I had missed the 8AM bus to Jinotega and waiting with a very pissed off Momma in the Mayoreo bus station. The bus driver refused to let me have the box in the bus, so he loosely tied a piece of string around the box and threw it up on top of the bus. Unfortunately, after the 3 hours bus ride, I simply took the box and walked to the next station to get the bus to my site. I did not notice until it was too late, that the box was much lighter and not moving. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Momma Cat had escaped en route. Don’t know where, don’t know when, but somewhere along the highway, or in the bus station, is a very confused white cat with yellow and black splotches. Luckily, I was able to stock up on baby formula and a bottle. Based on e-How.com “How Old are Your Kittens?,” I was able to determine that the kittens were somewhere between 2-3 weeks old, since they had just opened their eyes  and ears while staying in the hotel. I was able to stay with a Volunteer en route to my site so I wouldn’t have to walk to my house in the dark. She fell in love with the kittens and we snuggled them and coddled them for hours. I got them back to my house the next day and they have become the things-to-see for all the youth in Cuatro Esquinas. The first few days were rough bottlefeeding, in part because the baby bottle teat is about 10 times the size of Momma Cat’s teat and I can only imagine how scary that looks coming at you, but once they got hungry enough, we have all become pros. Words to the wise; it’s easier to wrap them up, it’s easier to do them in turns multiple times, the little nails don’t hurt that much, they learn to pee and poop on their own within the 3-4 week period.  So that’s how I got 4 small mouths to feed. But wait, there’s more……

Once I got back to site, and spent a full day getting used to the feeding schedule for the kittens, I hiked up the hill to see Traviesa. She was still there, but Dona Coco told me, sheepishly told me that they actually weren’t selling the puppy. I begged and tried to understand why they would go back on their word and even offered to pay for her, but her son said that the pup had gotten bigger and started following him and he wanted to use her to work the cows, so no. I was literally in tears on my way down the hill. It may sound really cheesy, but  I had told so many people about that dog and had made myself believe that once I got healthy and once I got back I would get a dog and this just seemed like one more way in which I was still an outsider, out-of-sync and running out of patience. Dona Coco told me I could wait 3 months until the mother gave birth to her next litter, but I walked down to the pulperia (general store) where Dona Moncha also had a few smaller black puppies. She had not vaccinated them or given them vitamins like Traviesa had, but I was emotional and irrational and asked her if she was selling them. One for 100, she said. Done. The next day I returned and bought to bigger of the two. I had to carry her back to the house, because at 3 months, she is not leash-trained and also terrified of everything. I had already bought dog food in Jinotega on the way back to site. The first night she did what any puppy in a new place would do-she peed and pooped in the house. Thank God for concrete floors that are easy to clean. I named her Sombra (Spanish for shadow) because she is all black except for a little marking on the front of her chest. I washed her with flea and tick soap, which was exciting because she can kick and squirm for a puppy. I easily got just as soaked. I walked with her into Praderas to buy a real leash and collar and vitamins and parasite meds. Everyone in my house drinks filtered water, but God only knows what Sombra eats when she goes outside. She was nice enough to take the hint after I tied her up outside to cry for a whole morning (literally cry and howl) that she was supposed to do her business outside. She refused to leave the house to go to town, so I carried her in my shoulder bag the whole way there and then dragged her the whole way back on the new leash. She’s starting to get the idea. She will not let me go anywhere around the house though without following; latrine, kitchen, take a shower at my neighbors, etc.  She is neutral with the kittens at least. But that is how I got one more mouth to feed. Current total is 5, not including myself. And she hops into bed with for the night now that she’s clean. It’s almost like home again to have something to cuddle and talk to.

By the way, I am not turning into a crazy cat woman. At least 3 other volunteers have already claimed kittens once they are older and the volunteers come back from their vacations. Still haven’t figured out what we are going to do with the animals for when Dad and Sean come….will have to see if they can feed on their own. Fingers crossed. I do love how my community understands that I hardly leave my house now, because I am taking care of “los ninos” or the children. According to them, because I don’t have actually children of my own, these are my kids. My kids have taught me to be patient, and to expect less of my day, to take it slow and develop manageable routines. And they are also just funny to watch. As any single or new mother would admit, the days fly by when there are at least 3 feedings in them. J

Thanksgiving and Hiking in Jinotega

So we actually went hiking after Thanksgiving, but I uploaded the photos in opposite order...oops. First Thanksgiving in the Peace Corps and away from home. Had an awesome time (minus being sick) and it just goes to show that Peace Corps Volunteers always make the best of things.

Saturday went hiking with a bunch of Health Volunteers. We hiked to the Cross on the West side of Jinotega. This is the cool touristy thing to do in Jinotega: hike straight uphill up a huge flight of stairs (imagine Stair Master) to a huge cross. And you get views like this of all of Jinotega City as you walk up.

 The girls-Katherina, Angie, Anna, and Julianne. All awesome Volunteers and kindred spirits. And all of us huffed and puffed together for a couple of hours. But we did it!

 From the top you can see Lake Apanas, the really big body of water on the map in Jinotega. My site is all the way on the other end of the lake from this end......all the way over theeeeeeeeeeeeerrrree. :)

 Me on the top of the mountain. there is actually a flat part right before the cross where we hung out and caught our breath while eating oranges. And enjoyed more scenery! Definitely had some awesome parallels to hiking in New England and it's just good to get moving around after being on those buses.

 The cutest pair of kids who found and befriended us on the top. And would not stop talking-but in the cute, little-kid way. And they followed us all the way down too, taking turns holding our hands. Soooo cute!!

 Sunning on the rocks at the top with our new friends. It was super windy so we grabbed any sun we could find. The little boy definitely had a crush on Angy. We've decided that the boy is going to grow up to be Community Counterpart for the Peace Corps, because he has no problem talking to gringas.

 The top with the cross. Needless to say, this is the cool place for the youth to hang out on weekends.

 And then there are these characters who are apparently security for the cross. But it is a little daunting to see two people just walking around with rifles in the middle of jungle forest Jinotegan mountains when you're hiking. We had a lovely conversation though and he wanted to know where I learned to speak Spanish so well and if we were from the area. And he was nice enough to remind us to be careful on the mountain. Lovely.

 Angie about the walk off the abyss.Don't do it Angie! Don't do it!

 We made it! At the top! Little winded, windblown, but happy and sunny!

Walking down with the same cute kids. Here he is holding Katherine's hand "so he doesn't fall." I definitely think this shot is in the running for the next Peace Corps promotional material: Life is calling: Where will you go?

 And then there was Thanksgiving at the Ambassador's house. She has a ridiculously nice house-with a pool and lovely artwork and everything. Turns out that I got to go by accident because I was listed as being from the AG 56 ,the group that has actually been here a year longer. But I'm not complaining!

 Especially not with food like this!! All the fixings and the trimmings. I won't lie- I went back for seconds and easily ate my body weight. It was so good!! Apparently they sell everything at PriceMart Nicaragua- I didn't even know they had a PriceMart here. And sweet potatoes and corn scallop and turkey and mashed potatoes---and I'm drooling again. :)

 And the best part was the decorations! The Ambassador, who is one sharp lady, had all these squeaky bath duckies, all different thanksgiving characters: native american ducky, pilgrim ducky, turkey ducky, all of them.

 One very happy Peace Corps Volunteer! I also got to talk to several Embassy families and staff, one of whom talked to me at length about applying for the Foreign Service after Peace Corps....hmmmmm.........

 And then Saturday we had a get-together of just Jinotegan Volunteers at Harry's house, a Small Business Volunteer. Here are a whole bunch of the girls enjoying the amazing potluck dinner; rotisserie chickens, broccoli, squash, apple crisp, malanga-and drooling again. Needless to say, in the Peace Corps you slowly begin to resort back to college years when all you think about is food.

 And somehow Johanna found this incredible little guy-waddling turkey. We let him hop around for five or six minutes and then needed the batteries. But we did get quite the laugh. And Harry said he came with the house.

 Sunset over Jinotega from Harry's house. Gosh this is such a beautiful place! And what a better way to pass the time after digesting copious amounts of food?

And the next holiday is already right around the corner...or across the street from Harry's. :) Happy Holidays!

The New House and the RASH

The Great Rash of 2012

Ok, so now that the crisis has passed (knock on wood), let’s get the adventure out.  Last Saturday I got back to my site from Managua with Cipro for a bacterial infection, when I started breaking out in welts and huge red splotches at around 7 at night. Since I am only allergic to zythromax and I could visibly watch the splotches move and get bigger, I called the PCMO (Peace Corps Medical Officer), who immediately stopped the Cipro and recommended Benedryll to get it under control. Side note: the Peace Corps Office is technically closed on the weekends and the coming Monday was Veterans Day. Yeah! After  moving into my own house and another 48 hours of lots of Benedryll (and even more suggestions and home remedies from all of my neighbors), I walked into Praderas and hopped the bus to Jinotega and then Managua to get into the office first thing Tuesday morning. I love Dr. Maria Auxiliadora, my doctor of choice, because her lovely reaction to my situation reassured me that I had a right to worry. Her exact words were, “It’s not the worst I’ve seen, but it’s more than mild.” She sent me to a specialist at the big, fancy Metropolitano Hospital (bigger and fancier than Porter Medical in Middlebury- see concentrated medical resources in one of most impoverished and malnourished countries in this Hemisphere). The dermatologist gave me stronger prednisone (which I had been taking for a few days after getting it in Praderas from a very drunk gringo pharmacist). I also got Allegra and Benedryll and was told to follow-up in 4 days on Friday. And told to not eat (deep breath)-fish, pork, milk and cheese, fried foods, things with condiments, pineapple, apples, strawberries, seafood, etc. Oh-and the Gender and Development Training Workshop was going on at the same time-so I was a zombie while working on empowering women! And let me go on the record saying that there are only so many things you can do in Managua before going crazy and/or broke. I easily just walked back and forth from the hotel to the PC Office to reorganize my backpack at least 3 times in one day. Good side- TEFL and Environmental groups were COSing (close of service).  Peace Corps Nicaragua has a tradition that every volunteer gets to ring the bell in the middle of the office to the applause of all the present office staff. There are smiles, tears, hugs, and even one engagement proposal!! It was a mental pick-me-up! Another good side was that almost all my roommates in the shared hotel rooms were Health Volunteers who offered their concern and expertise about the Great Rash.  It was a little amusing that the breakfast staff at Hotel Brandt’s knew me by a first name basis by Wednesday and asked about my “condition.” Thursday was my first spot-free day and then got the ok from the dermatologist to go back to site after Friday! And we still don’t know what actually cause this lovely adventure! The PCMO thinks that it may have been stress and/or a reaction with the Cipro. But, like the number of licks to the center of a Tootsie pop, the world may never know…. But here’s a picture to give you an idea of the things the tropics can do to you.

The Rash Day One Hour One (don't think you want to see more)

The New House
These are not going to go up on the blog for very long per Peace Corps security protocol (don’t need people knowing where I live in detail, especially since all the youth who really want to know just have to walk down the road.) There are 4 rooms: bedroom, kitchen, shed, and middle entrance room. There is electricity inside and enough doors and windows with bolts and heavy duty gym locks that I will lock myself in and out at least once before X-mas. I took the pictures of indoors as I was unpacking, so forgive the mess and Witness Protection look. It’s a little better now. Already transplanted my tomatoes, spinach, and  strawberries that I had been raising in recycled plastic bottle. I live next to the CICO, an abandoned preschool building. There is a washing board and faucet there that I share with the mom, Heysi, who lives on the other side of the CICO. That’s when there is water. Granted, Pantasma rarely has water shortages, but it was just coincidence that I left with the Great Rash of 2012 there was no water and when I returned a few days later, there was no water again. Thank God for the generosity of Nicarguans, I was gifted water buckets and some food to tide me over until I could get my own. Similar to how Vermonters can agree to talk about the weather for the first 15 minutes of every conversations, my neighbors started every conversation with the water update. is water. Granted, Pantasma rarely has water shortages, but it was just coincidence that I left with the Great Rash of 2012 there was no water and when I returned a few days later, there was no water again. Thank God for the generosity of Nicarguans, I was gifted water buckets and some food to tide me over until I could get my own. Similar to how Vermonters can agree to talk about the weather for the first 15 minutes of every conversations, my neighbors started every conversation with the water update. “Hay agua? Vino el agua?” or the worst “Se fue” (It went). My neighbors to the other side are the wonderful family of Don Oscar and Dona Marlene. Marlene is very quiet and 6 months pregnant. She loves to sing in the morning and the afternoon.  Oscar plays on the baseball team on Sundays (he’s the catcher) and is a carpenter and engineer for the Hydroelectric project up the mountain. He’s the one who installed the entire new roof for my house and has offered install a shower or help make any other projects during my service. I am currently looking for wood to make a box for lombrices-vermiculture!! Still cleaning and organizing, and figuring out where the ditches are, but I would relate it camping. It’s what you make of it. I spend a little more time working on the basics (latrine, water, food prep without refrigeration, etc). And there is a team of bats with whom I am sharing my clothes dresser.

Oscar and Marlene have two kids, Oscar Junior and Oscary (she’s a girl). They are both adorable and very curious. They and Isabel’s son, Engel, take turns just walking into my house and following me, watching everything I do. The Oscars are much more talkative, and try to update me on all the pertinent information of their lives. I think they are just wildly happy to have someone to talk to who is interested in doing projects. They are super creative and like to tinker. Engel is much younger, and currently is getting over pneumonia. Everyone is sick actually. The climate change, however small it may seem in comparison to New England, does a number on the community of Cuatro Esquinas. Everyone has grippe- which encompasses all flu-like symptoms. This is in part due to the slow damp end of rainy season and the entrance of chilly, uninsulated nights and mornings as we change to dry season. Jinotega is more mountainous and higher up, so dry season requires a sweater until March unlike the rest of the country. My fellow PCVs in Leon and Chinandega could not believe I even had a sweater when I came to the Office.

There is definitely a change in routine towards more independence, but also a scary sense of losing momentum as I shift to living on my own schedule. This also comes around the 3 month mark and I’ll admit that I certainly thought I would be knee-deep in projects and community activities when I looked at this point in my service from the perspective of a Trainee. Thank God for Dona Marlene and Dona Marta. As they say, “You are just starting.” We are so fixated on results and production as Americans, that I can physically feel my heart beating faster as I think about nutrition charlas, youth soccer games, cooking classes, latrines installed, ovens made, things built, things done. One of the local guys walked in on my conversation with my host grandmother and just offhandedly mentioned how he liked me better than the last volunteer because “you’re like us-you placticar y pasear (chat and pass time).” I was flattered and relieved these conversations were helping build social reputation and capital. Thank you for having a big family and the 20 Questions Olympics at Thanksgiving and X-mas. But the difference now, is that people are coming to visit my house to see me. They are placticar-ing with me about my security and giving me their phone numbers for whatever I may need. I’ve read about this generosity and sincerity of Host Country Nationals, but I will admit that I have never lived in a community long enough to just live in it (there was always sports and school, etc.). But here, it is my job and to the better of my experience to integrate, acclimate, adapt and reciprocate. I am getting better about not having to think about it or be culturally sensitive. But, I still have to remind myself, daily if not hourly, that development is a slow process. One volunteer once told me, “They were here before you got here and they will be here in 2 years when you leave; you have to find the balance between being the driving force and one of the guys.”  Another volunteer who is about to extend her service offered, “It’s not about the flashy projects. More often than not, it’s balancing just living in your site with your basic job requirements. Just be ready for the opportunities when they come, but don’t force them. Your community should not suffer simply because you’re fighting boredom.”  And lastly, “It is important to integrate and blend a little with your community, but don’t give up parts of yourself. You are what got you into Peace Corps. It should be a mutually beneficial and additive process;  you don’t  have to compromise to be a good volunteer.” While it is the best advice to keep you service individual and not compare to others, at the same time fellow PCVs are by far the best resources for coping and just sharing the moments.

My Room

                                                              The Chill Out Hammock Area

                                                                       The Kitchen

More Book Reports: a lot of time on the bus

The Glass Castle: by Jeannette Walls

This is an incredible memoir with the same tenacious and objective spirit of writers like Frank McCourt. I inhaled this book in less than a week (and a few bus trips to Managua-10 hours round trip). Jeannette is one of 4 and you follow her and her unique family from state to state. Her father is brilliant, a story-teller and hard worker-when he’s sober. Her naïve childhood innocence holds out longer than the average person, through the pickled fights and the broken dreams and piggy banks. The title comes from the blueprints for an actual castle her father uses as his trump card whenever he requires a good show of faith from his ever-faithful but eventually faltering family. He incentivizes the creativity of his children to hang on and believe in him a little bit longer, just one more time. This is with the backdrop of several struggling parts of the U.S.-New Mexico and California ghettos to long-gone coal mines of West Virginia and then the homeless corners of New York after all the children have left the deranged nest to find their own lives in the Big Apple. I found myself appalled, intrigued, amazed and awestruck and also laughing, sometimes at the same time. You just can’t believe that this all happened to one person, but the genuine tone and honest narrative makes it not just possible, but inspiring.  From eating out of garbage cans to fighting at school because they are the dirtiest students, I see the same spirit and infallible desire to play in the children in my site. They may be hungry, malnourished, with family webs that confound the imagination, but they still want to play soccer and braid hair.

The Good Doctor: by Damon Galgut

Did not leave as much of a lasting impression, but still a good quick read. In essence, South Africa after apartheid with a small clinic in the middle of nowhere and there is one doctor who has been there longer then the newly, fresh-off-the-jeep rookie who has come to change the world and start clinics, etc. Again, some parallels to the inevitable disillusionment of Peace Corps service with the search for personal relationships across drastic social political, and economic differences. The doctors clash over everything from ideology to what is change and what is their purpose and what are reasonable expectations given the living conditions and strife.  It’s short and bitter, but had a few too many introspective moments with not enough background information for me. However, it does bring to light the importance of the composition of the volunteer or the development worker down to the very last detail. Your character and makeup is just as important as the community you are working with and it’s not just a give and take. They are relationships and they are messy. J

Moving in and Dealing with Learned Behaviors

Moving in

So the goal for November was to move in to my own place to have a little more privacy and control over my diet and schedule. November seemed like the perfect time because I only had IST (Peace Corps in-service training) at the end of the month. Then I got sick, then I got nominated to the gender and development (GUIA) committee, and I also signed up to spend Thanksgiving with an Embassy family. All of these are great events (except for getting sick), but they have turned the moving schedule into week-long spurts. Good thing I have had so much experience moving! Hopefully, after getting back to site today, the plan is to blitz-pack everything and move into my house tomorrow before heading back to Managua Monday for the GUIA conference. I just feel like if I keep putting it off it’ll never happen. I think a small part of me is reluctant to move despite all the obvious health and sanity benefits because there is a comfort level in not having to worry about food and security with a host-family. This will also be new territory for me. I have lived on my own in college, but that doesn’t count and I have lived with people who were not in the house too often so I got a significant amount of independence, but this will be the first time I’m cooking for just one person. Everyone in my site knows that I like dogs, so I have a feeling company won’t be a problem, but there are so many little things that you just don’t think about until they happen and my Type-A is trying to think of all of them at one time (usually when I’m trying to sleep). If anyone has suggestions (recipes, strategies) from their own experience during this stage of life, more than welcome. Anxiously looking forward to it, but also expecting a lot of pasta. J

Behavior Modification

I have discovered that I rely too much on the same behavior modification strategies that normally work on American students and children. In my site, there isn’t really the typical reward for good behavior and punishment for bad behavior. This is in part because after a certain age, the kids are working members of the family and have an enormous amount of independence. The reason I am writing about this in particular is that my youth have taken to not showing up consistently to practices and have taken to only being interested in the friendship bracelets that I sell off of my water bottle. They are so fixated on the instant satisfaction of buying something I have shown them how to make or just playing with the ball rather than doing drills or talking about exercise that I oftentimes wonder if I am just not on the same playing field as them. If they goof off in practice or fight, I make them run, but no matter how many times they run, they always complain and then keep doing it; they don’t associate the behavior with the consequence. This has caused a lot of frustration on my part, but it has also caused me to look for other options. I now understand why volunteers talk about losing interest with their own projects because the participants are inconsistent or don’t seem interested in the objectives, just with the activities, etc. I think there is also some frustration knowing that part of this dependent behavior is learned from years of working with gringos in developing agencies who take pity on the cute little Nicaraguans and give them things. My youth keep asking me when they are going to get uniforms and when I am I going to give them bracelets or other things as gifts. The concept of earning something rather than having it given to you or buying it for the instant satisfaction is less appealing and, I am beginning to think, even foreign. You also run the risk of becoming the gringo who just gives away free stuff with no link to a purpose, you are the gringo who has everything (or at least more than the people), you fill the stereotype.The constant struggle as a volunteer is to make activities interesting enough without just freebies that the people genuinely want to participate. But, if you think about it, how many activities or events have we participated in in the States because we knew there would be free stuff?

More Pics and Reading

So this is a sample of what a world map looks like. There are two schools in nearby communities that already have maps and the volunteers before me used them for geography lessons and global connections with pen pals. I am hoping to raise enough money here (or at home if you are open to ideas) to cement smooth one side of the school in order to chart using a graph method the map and color code and paint it. Please let me know if you or anyone or any group you know is interested in this project. It is incredible how many students here don't know where Nicaragua or the United States is on a map. 

 My new roommate, the lizard-gecko thing. I found him hiding in my shoe when I got back from Managua and the Gala. These little guys usually scurry around the walls and make little chirping noises. they even run across the tv and eat critters up in the light, little sillohuettes in the soap opera frame. He's got character and I'm hoping he hitches a ride to my new house. He needs a name though....

 This is the welder that I wrote about last time. Everybody, meet Don Totto. He is making a bumper for my host-dad's car for everyone to use to hoist themselves into the truck. Needless to say, we don't really believe in safety gear here. He is like that handyman grandpa that can do anything and everything and he always sits down and talks to me in a way that is not creepy.

 This is Traviesa, the new puppy at Dona Cocos house. She is the CUTEST thing ever!! I have been pushing really hard for her to come live with me. Her parents and grandparents are awesomely huge, german sheperd guard dogs. But she is soooooo cute!! And she lets me rub her belly and pet her.....awwww! Yuri, Dona Cocos older son, has told me he'll trade me the dog for my blue sunglasses. Doesn't seem like too bad a trade.

 I just thought this looked cool. Was walking back as it was getting dark and came upon a typical garbage burning. We burn everything from plastic to brush to whatever else people just don't want to see lying around anymore because there is no official trash collection. Burning smell....yummmm

 And then this was just funny. The cats at my grandmother's house were looking for a snack. And they were willing to work really hard, and look really silly for it.

 And the soccer boys. These are just some of the boys of the Cuatro Esquinas soccer team. They have the greatest spunk. They love playing in the rain (mud slinging and sliding makes it that much better).

 Eliar Geobani- one of the smartest and sharpest of my kids

 Jose Santos. One of the young ones who keeps up with the older boys or ties trying

 The same lizard-gecko guy shedding his skin on my deoderant stick. He's clearly making himself at home.

 Jose Santos helping out with this week's project: tree nursery! Me and about 5 youth chopped up some dirt at the CICO (preschool building) and filled the Nica baby plant holders aka plastic black bags for the tree seeds and tree cuttings that they collected. And they had no qualms about getting down and dirty! Most of them help their farmer parents plant coffee nurseries in the same way. They were way more knowledgeable than me and had no issues with carrying cow manure to mix too.

 Other youth, Gilver, helping load the bags with our manure and macheted-dirt mix.

 Engel, Isabel's son. Isabel is one of the leaders for the Community Bank and a brigadista (travelling nurse). Engel was only about 3 or 5 when the other volunteer was here, but he follows me around and always wants to help out. You just have to ask him, because he hardly ever talks...

 Jose Luis, the most energetic and extroverted of the tree group. He did the tree nurseries with the Jessica, the volunteer before me, and his sisters were part of her youth group. He knew everything to do and how to do it before I said anything. And he loves to say "Es cierto..." So now I find myself saying it all the time.

And the final product (note the tree clippings in the close corner) with the other Gilver looking on. We finished just as the rain started.

More Reading List

The Broken Cord by Michael Dorris

 Wow. A powerful true story about a father who adopts a child with FAS (Fetal Alcohol Syndrome) and experiences a very different parenthood. I’ll admit I actually had to put this book down after the 1^st couple of chapters because I wasn’t ready to see the familiar New England names like Dartmouth, Sunapee, Claremont, Hanover, and White River Junction. Dorris also has an amazing skill for weaving images of the beautiful landscapes of the Dakotas and New Hampshire (again made me miss home to read about Northfield carnivals and whiteouts) with a synthesized academic and anecdotal account of his struggle for the thing every parent of a special-needs child never achieves: reliefe and acceptance of the child in front of you. As a sibling of a different special need sibling, I was startled to read the same expressions of confusion, protectiveness and anger and challenge to keep pushing the unknown limits and potential of a struggling individuals’ abilities. We are so fixated on reaching the assumed ultimate success story of a parenthood: an employed, educated, and independent individual. What angered me was that this book is from the 80s/90s and FAS treatment and prevention has yet to make huge progress since. We still don’t know exactly what causes Autism, so we treat symptoms and vocationally prepare adults who are still very much children. Many told me this was a sad story and it is and will continue to be as long as we don’t react to research, as long as we ignore anectodal evidence. I decided not to follow a degree in psychology or special education for the same conflict of interest Dorris notes as he goes deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole of study groups, published manuals and legislation: you can never shake your too personal account, never shake your sobjectivity. Today’s society still shuts out thos who have the most to lose when deciding things like treatment and vocational programs or early diagnosis services. Whether it’s FAS or Autism, they both cost the federal government billions and the powers that be are still reactive and not productive. I thank God everyday that high-functioning Aspergers individuals have the ability to learn from their mistakes, but the incessant structure Dorris mentions as the infallible key to his son’s limited success is true too for Aspies, as well as their need for supervision and vulnerability to bullies and abuse. As an older sibling, I understand how difficult it is to conceptualize and accept different set of life goals and not intuitively identify it as a failure somehow on your part as the nurturer, the elusive progress never ends. None of the involved parites are happy until you appreciate the child in front of you, for all of his quirks, successes, and struggles. There are lots more coming, but he is unique, and like Adam, mine has conditional love too (despite those angsty teen moments).