Living the Dream

Thursday night a few of us sat around sharing stories from the week. James shared an interesting journal entry of his from this same time the previous year when we were all going through the process of discerning to be Jesuit Volunteers. His entry was responding to a question that the office had asked us to reflect upon as we envisioned ourselves possibly becoming a volunteer in the future: “If selected to be a volunteer describe your dreams and hopes.” It seems so simple, right? As he shared his response, my mind drifted away to thoughts of mine from last year as I prepared myself for this experience, and then drifted back to the presence of my everyday reality that is full of visions of my dreams for being here.

I saw myself at last week’s story hour. After presenting the story, Little Red Riding Hood (La Caperucita Roja), the children were asked to draw a picture of the forest that the Little Red Riding Hood had to walk through to get to her grandmother’s house. This activity’s purpose was to get the children using their imagination and creativity to draw the forest. For the most part the students really enjoyed the chance to color and create something of their own, but I noticed one girl about 6 years old who seemed scared as she stared at the blank sheet of paper in front of her. When I approached her to ask why she wasn’t working, she just told me “I don’t know; I just can’t.” So being my natural optimistic self, I told her that of course she was able to, she just had to try, but about five more minutes passed and still not a single mark on her paper. She then came up to me and told me that she didn’t know how to hold a pencil, and when she told me this the situation made a lot more sense. I spent the next ten minutes practicing with her on how to hold a crayon, and before I knew it, as soon as she caught on of how to hold a pencil or crayon, the entire sheet of white paper was completely covered of lines and marks. I am not sure how much it really resembled a forest, but that wasn’t important to either her or me. I am telling this story because it was a beautiful to see this young girl in a profound moment of discovery. It was as if she took her first step, said her first word, or lost her first tooth...there I stood watching her practice over and over with the crayon in her hand, looking up at me each time as if to reconfirm that it was actually her drawing on her own without the help of anyone else. When the paper was covered on the front side, she turned it over, smiled at me as if to ask permission to color on the other side and continued on her way of creating her own art. Living the dream?

I hear two young children scream “BUENAS!!!” at the front door and knew immediately that dinner time must be approaching. Without fail, just about everyday for the last 4 weeks or so, a few of the neighborhood children come by the house to borrow stories to read. Honestly, after spending my entire day working in the library around shouting children asking for books, I wasn’t initially too excited about the idea of how children are now coming by my house requesting books, but kids wanting to read isn’t a very common sight in Nicaragua, so even if it involves more work on my part, I think it always has to be worth it (well, this is at least what I have to remind myself of during those moments when I just want to walk into my house, shut the door and not have to speak or think in another language after a long day). On this particular day, one of the girls, Valesca greeted me at the door singing me an English song she had learned that day in school. I wasn’t familiar with the song, but it was about a girl named Sally. I told her that Sally was my mom’s name, and immediately she started singing the song again and walked down the block to write “Sali” in some fresh concrete. Following Valesca, Jasser, Becky and the others also began writing “Sali” with their hands on the dirt street and shouting the name. For some reason, it didn’t seem worth it to tell them the correct spelling, and the next day as I walked home, I looked forward to their daily shouts at the door. I was a little disappointed when I saw that the “Sali” Valesca had written in the concrete the previous day was already covered with a fresh coat. Something about me felt content knowing these children would continue to return everyday…which they have been so far, and now Valesca always kindly asks me to tell my mom hello for her almost I see her. Living the dream?

There was something different last week as I walked across the football field heading towards the nuns´ house for lunch break. Many people from the neighborhood were out helping install new playground equipment that was donated by the city on the one condition that it was to be installed together by members of the community. As soon as the equipment arrived, Don Ernesto immediately began mixing the concrete while Don Felix and others began digging the holes to install it. The children could hardly contain their excitement; they were climbing all over the trees, and others were already forming a line to go down the slide. Even though the cement wouldn’t be dry until later that night, they weren’t about to wait…this might be the first time for some. I was inspired by the community’s effort to try and fix up the neighborhood. Sure in a few months the swings might break and the seats may fall off the teeter-totter, but that day was a victory for the neighborhood as they saw the repairs made by the effort of the community. I have yet to walk by the slide whether it is 7am, noon or 5pm without a line of eager children ready to take their turn on the slide…I’m now becoming curious when it will be appropriate for me to join the line and give it a try… Living the dream?

Sitting outside under the mango tree at the nun’s house after lunch, I picked up a small grasshopper trinket-type-thing made out of a palm leaf that had blown off the table. Paula, the 29 year-old nun who works in the project, thanked me for picking it up and then proceeded to tell me how it was made in a matter of seconds by a little boy on the street. She said the previous night after going to a free play at Managua’s culture center, this young boy approached her and asked her for money. She said that based on the area of town and the way the little boy dressed, he was most likely asking for money to spend on drugs. Although he was only nine years old, she shared with me that it is common for young Nicaraguan children who have rough family situations to live on the streets at a young age and begin sniffing glue (the most common and cheapest type of drug available). Paula shared with me that after seeing this little boy high on glue, half dressed and dirty, her heart broke for him. She talked with him for a few minutes asking about his family and whether or not he was in school, but she knew that by the look on his face his answers were lies. She struggled giving him money not knowing if it was the right thing to do or not because she wasn’t sure if he would use the money for drugs, but she told me sometimes you just have to hope for the best for some people, love them for who they are and offer then what you have. So with that same spirit, she offered the boy money and in return he gave her all he had and made her a snake and a grasshopper out of palm leaves. As I handed her back the grasshopper I had just picked up off the ground, she protected it as if it could have been a delicate crystal glass or precious possession. Maybe she was keeping it as a reminder of this young 9 year old boy’s life; either way I was amazed by her abounding generosity and optimism. Living the dream?

I guess I am writing all these short reflections to remind myself that amidst the challenges of living in Nicaragua, this is truly my dream to be here. Thinking back to a year ago, if I would have settled for some job back home, I would have always wondered how my life would have been like if I had decided not to come here. Sure, now that I have been here for a few months, I have a whole new set of dreams for the world because now I am learning the dreams of my Nicaraguan co-workers, my neighbors, the children that come to the library, and my fellow JVs, and I realize that our dreams aren’t so different. I know that one by one if we just take some risks, put trust in the right things, and not be afraid to face challenge that we might be able to LIVE THE DREAM.