Tag Archives: Nicaragua

Finding New Strength

10 Jan

Color painting of mother and child with gunBeing a mother is learning about strengths you didn’t know you had, and dealing with fears you didn’t know exist.
– Linda Wooten

It’s 2013, a new year.  A time to start off fresh.  Far too much time has lapsed since I’ve last written.  I once again find myself inspired to write, in fact I’ve been missing writing.  It’s a kind of creative sounding board for me personally, and I really enjoy reading the feedback I receive from my friends and readers.

The past seven months have been quite a whirlwind.  So much evolution and change in such a short time.  And the most significant of those changes has yet to be revealed.  I could rehash all that has come about in my life, and the world, in the past year but it wouldn’t accomplish much.  At this moment, my mind is occupied with all the change that is about to unfold in my life and how I will manage to “fit” it all in to the measly 24 hours we get in a day.  And then I start to think about how all the women that came before me did it.  *Sigh*

It brings me back to one of the many grounding experiences of my life – Esteli, Nicaraguaga.  It is the third largest city in all of Nicaragua.  It’s an eclectic place that really doesn’t see many foreigners or tourists, or at least that was Esteli 10 years ago when I was there.  The town’s motto pretty much sums it up – “Lover of the present. Builder of the future.”  But what really brings me back to Esteli is how it’s history has redefined life, and despite the bloodshed has brought forth a new found strength and resilience in the people.  Esteli was the scene of perilous fighting during the Somoza regime and again during the U.S.-backed Contra War.  The lands outside of the city boundary are still riddled with land mines and the ghosts of wars past regrettably live on.

As we made our way through the city’s gritty streets and alley ways, we gleaned nuggets of hope and strength.  We played soccer with a group of kids playing on a field of dirt with a ball that was made of plastic bags tightly packed together & wrapped with string and tape.  We found beauty in the paintings and graffiti that adorned cement walls throughout the city, the very cement walls that served as a fortress for people’s homes during the recent wars.  And then one day we wound-up at a local women’s organization where we were given a “tour” of the center and learned through the testimony of one woman – how women survived and  even thrived in the war.  In Esteli, unlike in many parts of Latin America and the world, women are seen a bit differently.  They are respected for their strength and perseverance at a kind of unspoken kind of higher level.  Why?  What makes Esteli’s perspective of women different?  The difference lies in the impact that its history has had on shaping daily life.  During both recent wars in Esteli, most often the men went off to war in the rural areas and the women remained at home with the children to defend their homes & children while the war raged on right in the city boundaries.  Women, mothers, were armed with AK-47s – just as the men were.  There was very little that differentiated the roles of men and women during a decade and a half of bloodshed.   Women grew stronger than ever before – not just in fighting – but in standing-up for their rights.  In owning their individual personal power.

Days like today when I feel overwhelmed and wonder how on earth am I going to “do it all” in just a couple of months.  I stop and think about the women of Esteli.  They have endured far more than I will likely ever have to – or maybe its similar but just in a different time, place and form.  I think of these women, mothers, that came before me.  Many that had to face the blood of their children, husbands, and family members right before their eyes.  Many that endured the other ugly parts of war like rape, lost limbs, and hunger.  While I may not be from Nicaragua, I am forever grateful to these women.  The examples they have set for me, and all of us, are invaluable – especially now as I take this next giant leap in my life.  Their strength and resilience is simply inspiring.

Below is a visual “tour” through some of the streets of Esteli and the wall artwork that gives the city a most unique identity and essence.  Start with the painting at the top of the blog and slowly work your eyes through the images.  Enjoy!

Wall painting on finghting for freedom

Corner in bloom with graffiti

Wall painting of children building a new future

 

wall art of children coming together

Wall painting in color on human rights

Wall painting of women's strength rising

Trials & Tribulations of Travel

28 Jun

Color photo of a long boat on the Mekong River

As I write this I am at hour 7 of my second day traveling up the Mekong River by long-boat.  This mode of travel should be more appropriately titled SLOW boat.  I’ve estimated that we are moving at a pace of about 5-10 miles per hour.  Yesterday, with an overflowing boat, it took us over 10 hours to travel less than 100 miles.  All I can do is sigh and take a deep breadth… I am just so not used to this pace of life.  I’ve found myself totally conflicted by the rat race I run everyday at home in Washington, DC.  This really is the slowest I’ve moved in a days time in the past 6 years.  I guess if nothing else can get me to slow down and relax, well Laos certainly can.  And quite simply I don’t have a choice so I had better pull my head together and suck it up.  And in coming to terms with the fact that I have another 5 more hours to go in this long & slow boat better leave it with my favorite anecdote – in life there is a reason for everything.

Color photo of man rowing a dug out canoe

So why have I taken a 20+ hour slow boat journey up the Mekong River in the first place?  For one, I didn’t know this when I purchased the boat ticket two days ago but it really wouldn’t have had made a bit of difference if I had known, I would have had to travel this distance (and this slow) no matter what.  I suppose if I had known how long this would take I would have mentally prepared myself, brought water & food – and I certainly would have arrived at the boat launch well in advance so we didn’t have to [literally] push and shove to get seats on the boat.  It was so overloaded with people, motorcycles, sacs of rice, produce, bicycles, and everything in between that there weren’t enough seats on the boat for all the passengers.  Some of the long boats even carried goats, chickens, and ducks on the roof.  Though luckily we did manage to get seats, even if it meant sitting three people to 2 seats in hot and humid weather.  Let me tell you how fun this was! [sarcasm] And well actually I really didn’t have it as bad as some.  I had a seat next to a Dutch backpacker which lead to some good conversations that helped to pass the time.  But that wasn’t the only entertainment we had for the 10 hours.  The majority of the boat passengers were young (ages 20-30) Lao traveling from Luang Prabang to their homes in rural villages that are scattered along the edges of the Mekong River.  Most of them were quiet and reserved.  Some traveled as boyfriend-girlfriend couples.  While some groups of girls played card games and giggled for hours.

Then there was the back of the boat.  Now that is where all the “action” was – or however much “action” there can possibly be on a jam-packed wooden boat that is barely 9 feet wide.  But it did lead to the highlight of the day.  In the back of the boat there were a few young Laos (guys and gals) drinking the one and only BeerLao – for over 10 hours, laughing, eating sticky rice, and simply trying to have a good time.  Next thing I knew I turned my head to look at what the ruckus was and there in the back of the boat was one of my good friends (who I’ve been travelling with) hanging out with a glass of BeerLao and attempting to communicate with the half-drunken group in the back.  And well, this all lead to ongoing entertainment for the rest of the trip.  As the hours went by, they all continued to guzzle down BeerLao towards a drunken stupor.  I didn’t join them because I was on the verge of the infamous traveling “stomach bug” – if you know what I mean.  But every few hours we all had to “pay our dues” and visit the loo in the back of the boat.  Let me share with you a vision of the “loo” on the slow boat.  You push open a rickety wooden door and inside the door are a pair of old plastic sandals.  You leave your shoes outside the bathroom and slip on the wet nasty plastic sandals.  The floor inside is old & weathered ceramic with a small oddly star-shaped opening cut into the wooden side of the boat so you have some light.  A few pairs of old mens’ underwear and a womans’ bra is draped over a basket with used toilet paper.  Then there is the lovely Asian squat toilet. [sarcasm, again].  It’s a ceramic square with a hole in it – you peer down and you see the river water down below.  Now its time to test this interesting device.  You carefully squat, ensuring you keep your balance as the boat sways back and forth)and aim into the hole.  Meanwhile a concoction of river water and urine sloshes around your feet, and if you have bad aim your urine will join the rest of the sloshing mix.  A plastic grocery bag filled with traditional Lao herbs hangs on a rusty nail in the corner, attempting to curb the noxious aroma of urine and poo.  Be very careful not to lose your balance, or else you will fall either into the Asian toilet or the nasty liquid mess.  Another good reason to avoid drinking too much BeerLao on the boat.  Well I am pleased to report that by the end of this journey I did in fact “master” the Asian squat toilet.

The Asian Squat Toilet on the boat looked kind of like this, but this one is actually a bit nicer.

This boat trip has proven to be yet another test in patience.  Making me slow down and deal with all the discomforts that are required to travel & experience some of the most incredible and untouched places on Earth.  It’s a test in staying strong and remaining graceful amidst shear discomfort.  We passed through several rainstorms along the river.  And down come these heavy plastic curtains along all the sides of the boat – our long slow boat is now a makeshift sauna.  I can feel the sweat build-up on the backs of my legs that are pasted to the vinyl boat seat.  How [not] refreshing!  This is a test of grace for my mental strength.  DEEP BREATH.  But it wasn’t all bad – there was the occasional breeze from time to time that reminded us of how beautiful the Mekong is.   I look beyond it and admire the glorious Lao scenery.  And much to my delight I did spot one lone Elephant playing along a sandy shore.  Laos is “the land of a million elephants” and my singular elephant sighting was gratifying.

Color photo of the elephant I spotted

I’m now at cumulative 19 hours on this river journey.  My thoughts slip away from me.  I reflect on my life back at home, at what I will do when I return.  While some people count sheep I think about my happy puppy eager to take me on a long walk in our neighborhood.  I ponder some different tactics on a couple of projects at work, some new solutions come to mind and I jot them down.  And before I know it I am back in the present, living in the moment.  Though, I have to admit, this long-boat ride was also good for me to reflect on all these things.  It reminds me of how much I have to be grateful for in my life and how much I love & cherish my small family back home.  And remind us all that the experience of travel, as I define it, is not all the glitz and glory we often envision it to be.  And with that my mind goes back 10 years to my past adventures, far more challenging and uncomfortable, especially when I was “adventure travel fresh” and naive.  I remember the time when I was barely 20 years old and I decided to take a cargo boat (almost the size of a ship) for 27 hours non-stop across Lago de Nicaragua (Lake Nicaragua) to the mouth of Rio San Juan.  There were not even such things as seats on this boat – it was a true cargo ship.  Just a metal boat deck loaded with sacks of produce: melons, guavas, mangos, and breadfruit to call home for these 27 hours.  I rested my body across the bags of melons for what felt like eternity.  It rained heavily throughout the night and there was no roof on the boat deck.  I attempted to cover myself with the a thin layer of polyester from my travel hammock – and at some point I just accepted the fact that there I was and I was going to be wet.  The rain did provide a sense of relief from the oppressive daytime heat.  I can’t forget to mention that this entire time I had a bad stomach virus from drinking bad water several days prior, that progressively got worse during these 27 hours on the cargo ship.  [Most of you who have really traveled know what I mean by “stomach bug” – aka dysentery] Was there a bathroom on the boat equipped with so much as an Asian squat toilet?  Hardly!! Just a closet with a hole through the floor that went to the water.  The men on the boat just peed over the side, and I of course as a woman could not do that.  It was a trying 27 hours to say the least.  So worth it in the long run – Rio San Juan was beautiful, San Carlos, and El Castillo de la Concepcion were all incredible and mostly untouched places.  I feel so lucky having experienced these wonderous places before they get overrun with commerce and tourism.  And well, I am just so grateful that while on the Mekong River in Laos I am not sleeping in the rain on bags of melons and I don’t have a full-blown stomach bug.

Color photo of children playing on the Mekong

In this moment of new-found gratitude [and hopefully an ounce more of grace] for this long and SLOW journey I embrace the moment as I arrive at the Laos side of the border with Northern Thailand.

Color photo of the moon rising over the Mekong River near the Laos-Thai border

Power of Human Connection

9 Apr

Black and white photo of a young girl in Nicaragua

The aura of this young Nicaraguan girl represents to me the power of human connection, across ages, cultures, economic divisions, and ethnicities. (March 2003)

Current Location: Washington, DC

The single greatest motivation behind my restlessness to experience all the world has to offer is quite simply the power of human connection. Something happens to the soul when we find connections among each other and other people living different lives in different lands, of different cultures and with different traditions. There is no better way to learn who you are than through the power to connect.

In every step across a new culture, and new people, I’ve had many moments that proved to me that we do transfer our energy (or prana) from one to another, in even the smallest of interactions. Every time we make eye contact with a stranger, we are making a powerful human connection and a transfer of energy occurs. Human connections are not just these small instances with strangers. Its also about the human connection that occurs when befriending a stranger. One of the reasons I love being a Washingtonian is that this city is a microcosm of everything the world has to offer. I don’t need to get on a plane and cross an ocean to experience the power of human connection.

Everyday I make sure to “travel” to some place new. So how do I travel in this city that is little more than 63 square miles? Two of my favorite past times, that are naturally a part of my daily life, are 1) doing my grocery, and 2) taking a taxi cab at least once a week. I know what you are wondering… what am I thinking? Let me tell you a story from my trip to the grocery store last week, since it really reflects a similar “travel” opportunity I find in my daily routine. It was Saturday morning and I made my weekly rounds running errands around town. Next stop was grocery shopping I went through the store as I do every couple of weeks, selecting the freshest in-season veggies and fruits along with all the staples. Then at check-out (this is often the fun part) I went through the line and then it was my turn to ring-up my groceries. I had a lot of groceries this time, which meant a good 15 minutes with the clerk. What better way to spend the 15 minutes at the grocery store check-out than engaged in good conversation? His name was Vlad (short for Vladimir), he was lean young man of African decent, and certainly not Russian as his name may have suggested. Vlad had some stories to tell and I was listening. He was a hard working young man, studying electrical engineering at a near-by community college, working part time at the grocery store, and living with his Father and a few other people in an apartment. And he was also very committed to environmental sustainability. His first change making endeavor was trying to get his Father and roommates to recycle. And a struggle it was for him to change the way they all live. But he was committed and wasn’t going to give it up. His dreams didn’t stop there. He was hoping to use his education in electrical engineering on wind energy development. Getting to know Vlad was a refreshing moment in life. He reminded me how much we can have in common with people all around us from different walks of life. It was a simple every day, yet powerful, connection. And I hope that our exchange somehow gave him an extra drop of inspiration or planted a new idea.

Hopefully now you can see what I mean about these moments of interaction with strangers and how the power of human connection can be found in daily life, through trips across this 63 square mile area I call home. When venturing across borders these simple moments of human connection bring us closer to knowing what it really means in that there is only one race, the human race. And no matter how different we see the world, and how we live our lives, we are still so deeply connected to one another in the humblest of ways. As for the weekly taxi cabs… I’ll leave it up to your imagination and share more in a future blog.

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