Wow…the fastest 365 days of my life. I know that some passed more quickly than others, some were easier, and others were filled with despair, but individual days aside, the year has completely changed me from the inside out. Even just looking back on these last few months when I have failed to write, so much has happened, I can hardly remember myself, but for now I would like to share a short story.
Just yesterday I was invited to a first communion of Edelis, one of the young girls I have gotten to know this year at the library. Only one of the many beauties of this culture is that a friendship with just one person opens you up knowing an entire family. In the case of Edelis, I know not only her but also her brother, numerous cousins, parents, grandmother, and even a few uncles and aunts. More than 20 family members live together on a plot of land in El Recreo, the neighborhood where I work.
I arrived to her house round 7am yesterday morning a little nervous and unsure of what a typical first communion experience would be like. Not surprisingly, I was greeted with excitement, love and hugs and kisses from everyone, but most amazingly was treated just like one of the family. Upon my arrival, we quickly left for the church that was a little ways away in the next neighborhood. It also quickly came to my attention that this day was not just the first communion of Edelis but also a family affair because her brother and two cousins received their first communion also. This day had been looked forward to by all of them for a long time, and I was really touched that they wanted me to be a part of it.
Mass started by a loud ringing of the bells, and I again felt so glad to be sharing in this moment especially as I watched all the communicants process in meeting eyes and smiling with those I had just spent the last year working with at the library. In a neighborhood where families struggle to make ends meet and put food on the table, this day was a huge accomplishment for everyone.
Midway through mass right after the homily, fireworks were set off just steps away from the doors of the church in typical Nicaraguan fashion as a way of demonstrating happiness and excitement. Of course through my North American glasses, it seemed like nothing other than a huge safety hazard as smoke and debris from the fireworks entered the church and also a big disturbance of the sanctity of mass (imagine how distracting and LOUD fireworks are when you are less than 50 meters away). Most everyone just ignored them, but of course I completed jumped out of my skin because that was the last thing I was expecting to happen.
Afterwards, we returned to the house where everyone lived and ate cake and drank coke (also a very cultural thing…no party is complete without cake and “gaseosa”). The “house” is a chain of small rooms built with scrap wood and dirt floors. As I sat outside on the small patio area that connected the various parts of the house, I took in all that was around me…the very close context in which they lived; there weren’t enough chairs for everyone to sit on; no toilet only a small latrine, no running water, and many people slept in the same bed. The mother shared with me that she wasn’t able to make lunch for everyone due to all the expenses of the day. It was incredible the high importance they placed on buying a beautiful, white, communion dress, lace gloves, matching shoes, and veil. Especially when I reflected on the conditions of their house, I was really impressed by the way they worked to conserve parts of their culture.
This experience was just one part of that one day. Last night as I went to bed, I laid my head down on the pillow, and thinking back to the days events, I once again felt grateful for this experience of being here. Please stay posted…I still have many other days and stories to share.
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