Day 7: Peace without social justice is not peace

Back to Managua this morning. Our mid-morning meeting was with the founder of the women's movement and head of the feminist party, Maria Teresa Blandon. She was also a military leader who fought for the Sandinistas in the revolution. Think Gloria Steinham with a gun. She is passionate and her story riveting, but she had a great sense of humor. This mild-looking woman, in the photo above, told us, "I am not a heroine, I am like many women who experienced a moment in history and had to live that history."

She was barely 18 when the revolution began, and saw it as an opportunity to change the lot of women in Nicaragua. Recognizing that women were not seen as equals in either military or machismo society, she volunteered for some of the harshest jobs in the war in order to be accepted on equal terms. She helped found the feminist party, based on 6 demands: participation as citizens; the rights of children; alleviation of domestic burden; the right to fully work; educational access; and access to health care and family planning. She was there when, in 1987, the Sandinista government recognized discrimination against women and made a commitment to work for equality.

However, she subsequently found that these pronouncements were more rhetoric than reality. The revolutionary party was partially committed to womens rights but not fully committed to the emancipation of women, in part because the national directorate was (and still is) made up of only men. She raised additional issues that had not been addressed by the Sandinista government -- self-determination of women, the issue of parity in public positions, the continuing issues of domestic violence and the lack of control over reproductive health, and issues of gay sexuality. The Sandinista government did not address these issues, and so she and a small group of women broke off from the revolutionary party and created an autonomous splinter group. "Peace is not just the absence of armed justice," she said. "Peace without social justice is not peace." Her party exposed incidents of sexual misconduct on the part of the Ortega and for that "we have paid a high price."

She is hopeful, though. Amazingly hopeful. "The women are our hope. It is worthwhile working on these issues because we are worthwhile; we are the hope." We were all smitten with her. Another strong woman in a country where being a strong woman is very difficult and sometimes dangerous. I admire the courage shown here in just making it through the day, let alone making progress for an entire generation of women.

We are down to our last day. We've all agreed on the essentials needed for this trip, pictured above: bug repellant, sun screen, anti-bacterial gel, a bandana, a $1 fan (we bought in the square in Granada), and, of course cervaza (beer, the local variety, Victoria.) Tomorrow we visit a school and, in the afternoon, will visit with the individual from the Sandinista party responsible for the literacy campaign in Nicaragua. Stay tuned.

Day 6: It was like we woke up

We departed for Malpaisillo early this morning, a day already steamy by 8:00. This small town is the setting for a women's cooperative focused on farming and livestock -- these women own their own land as a condition of joining the cooperative, and manage the farms themselves. Our first stop was a goat farm in the boonies, mountains in the background, lush green jungle around us. Our bus could only go so far, then we all piled into the back of a Toyota pickup truck for the remainder of the drive to the farm. Been awhile since we crammed 15 people into a pickup to get into the drive-in for one low fee, so it seemed like an adventure. At first. Then the pickup was rolling and leaning as it made its way up the road, and I was making a mental exit plan if the damn thing rolled. Then it reached a hill it just could not climb. We all willingly exited and walked the remainder of the way. (It's telling that -- on the way back -- we were asked to give up three spots for the women of the farm, and all 15 of us volunteered to walk back.)

The coordinator of the program is one feisty, fiery woman from Spain -- the one pointing upward in the photo above. I would not want to tangle with her. She was from the region of Spain that also gave us St Ignatius of Loyola -- and she had a few thoughts on him as well. She began the cooperative that now has more than 100 women involved as landowners, farmers, and ranchers. One of them was a mother of four -- the leftmost woman in the picture above -- who said after entering the program "It was like I woke up...it changed my life." They referred to their joining the coop as "I got organized," which of course has different connotations in the States. Their accomplishments are undeniably praise worthy, though, as these women were dragged up from illiteracy and poverty to become landowners and ranchers. The picture on the left above is of one of them, who owned the farm we visited. Her goats are in the background.

This part of the countryside is much less downtrodden. The houses are nicer, there is some industry, and the people look more nourished. Can't say the same for the cows or horses, but we did see one fat dog -- very rare here.

We had some barbecue for lunch. Never did quite get a straight answer as to whether it was sheep or goat. Either way -- tasty. Then visited the local health clinic. I had a chance to talk with the gynecologist, a woman trained in Spain who has worked at the clinic for 16 years. 9% of her clientele have papilloma virus and cervical cancer continues to be a common diagnosis, sometimes after menopause when it has already spread. I asked if her teens were willing to take the HPV vaccine."Probably, but we do not have any. We don't even have mammograms." Maybe this is something we could work on?

Had dinner at a Mediterranean restaurant after a welcome 2 hr break. Took a cold shower to try and bring my body temperature under 100 degrees. Geez, this is some hot stuff. No worries about my rings getting stolen as they'd never be able to get them off my fingers. Tomorrow, back to Managua to meet with the founder of the Feminist Women's Movement and the Director of a Jesuit Research Institute. The last few days have definitely been one for the girls. Stay tuned.

Day 5: Impoverished but not poor

Today was "politico day." We began with a meeting with Fransisco Aguirre Sacasa, the party deputy to the National assembly for the Partico Liberacion Conservico (PLC.) He is a congressman, and head of the party opposed to the current president, Daniel Ortega. So think head of the Republican party in the US if he was a Senator. He was clearly a politician ... articulate, well dressed, and flirtatious. He had a strong message, though, and a different take on the political situation than we've heard so far.

His focus is education. He believes that the politicians should focus not on poverty eradication but in primary, secondary and vocational schools for a long-term recovery. The challenge, he believes, is to preserve democracy in the midst of very low per capita income and extreme aid dependency. He is clearly disillusioned with the current regime. He believes that Ortega was once a revolutionary that has morphed into something else that confuses state and private property. It is on record that Ortega accepted more than $450 million in aid from Venezuela via Hugo Chavez that has not reached the people. (Of course, one of the claims against the PLC candidate is that he personally took $100 million of public funds.)

Sacasa believes the constitution itself is under siege, and from what we have heard of the current congress, he may well be right. He thinks the the only way to win the presidency from Ortega is to unit the opposition and focus on economic and educational improvements. He is clearly proud of his country and sounds genuinely interested in its welfare. "We are impoverished but not poor," he told us. "Our spirit is not broken."

We heard quite a different story in the afternoon. We met with the man who was the editor of the revolutionary newspaper from 1980 to 1994, during the revolution, Carlos Fernando Chamorro. A small detail -- his mother was the presidential candidate who unseated Ortega in an upset election in 1990, and served as president from 1990 to1996.(Interesting that in a country where machismo is still alive and well they had a woman president 20 years ago. Hmmm.) So it was a little like meeting the editor of the Village Voice and Chelsea Clinton all wrapped up in one. His story was riveting, a tale of quiet courage and persistence in the face of threats and intimidation. He believes that democracy is secondary for a society that is in survival mode; that social change is the most important business to be done. He is also strongly non-violent, and believes that the revolution legitimized violence as a political tool. "Why do we condemn death squads in El Salvador and Guatemala and Brazil and then agree on armed force from the left? We cannot lay democracy on the table and then play death squad politics with it...

He believes the only way that Ortega will be defeated in the next election is if the opposition is not united -- if enough candidates are presented that support for Ortega is drained and one candidate will emerge that can "speak to the people."

And so we continue to hear different versions of the reality that is Nicaraguan politics. It has become clear, when poverty is this endemic, that democracy is not the stand-alone answer, but rather a part of the solution that is focused on social policy.

This evening we've moved from Managua to Leon, a smaller city with a real town square. It is still politicized, though. It is a university town, and was the site of a student uprising that resulted in students being killed in the streets during the revolution. The mural in the photo above depicts the carnage; it is just off the town square.

Tomorrow to a sheep farm. Our group leader tells us "it will be hot and toasty." Given I've never been hotter than in the past three days, I'm wondering what kind of oven-like atmosphere is on tap for us tomorrow. Speaking of on tap, time for dinner and the evening cold one. Stay tuned.

Day 4: They even made the bricks!

The morning was spent at the University of Central America, the only private university in Nicaragua and a Jesuit university. Although it was in the past considered “elitist,” because so few could afford the tuition, after the revolution it was adopted as a national university, and now 50% of its operating budget comes from the state. They have more than 8000 students, and 65% of them are on full scholarship.

We met with their Vice President, Academic Vice President, Director of International Relations, and Secretary General. Their university was conceived as a social project, and their mission statement -- in its first sentence- -- focuses on equal and sustainable human development. They are keenly involved in the community.

The university benefited from the Revolution, in that higher education became state-operated and state money followed. They were able to open their doors to students who otherwise could never afford a college degree. The downside -- they had a prestigious engineering program that the state determined should be operated by another university, and so they lost that degree in the process.

They have no healthcare programs, but we had several ideas for collaboration while we talked. They are very interested in sports medicine, exercise science, public health, and maternal/child nutrition. Sandra Mitchell and I are energized by the possibilities of both intercultural learning and service here in Nicaragua.

The afternoon was an awe-inspiring experience. The picture above is of a huge, 1800 square meter concrete building. This is a cooperative project for spinning cotton into cloth to sell and support these women. They started out with more than a hundred people, and, after 3 years, 18 are left. These women literally built this building from the ground -- digging the trenches for the foundation, mixing and pouring the concrete slabs, putting on the roof. They even made the bricks! They were most proud of their ability to work with rebar. Their quiet accomplishment was inspiring to all of us. They are patiently waiting for their spinning equipment to arrive, at which time they will all become owners of the business. All workers are owners, all owners are workers. Sounds a bit like San Francisco in the 60’s, but this kind of cooperative engagement is the only option for making large scale change in this community. A committed Presbyterian minister and his wife are changing lives here, one family at a time. Take a look at the work they are doing at http://www.jhc-cdca.org/

There is clearly a lot of need. I am having trouble fitting this experience into the context of my life; it is overwhelming. The poverty is crushing, the quality of life (or lack of it) inconceivable. Even the horses and dogs look as if they are suffering. There is so much to be done that one wonders how to even begin.

Back to air conditioning and beer. This afternoon, meeting with the minister, was the hottest I believe I have ever been, and that is saying something for a woman whose internal thermostat is broken. On the plus side, the humidity is plumping up our faces and we are all looking very non-wrinkled. Which is not the case for my clothes. No iron! Ande, you would have a cat.

Tomorrow we meet with the UN ambassador and the son of a previous president, then off to Leon for two nights in the country. I am not at all sure whether I’ll have internet access or not so it may be Thursday before I check in again. Stay tuned.

Day 3: No these aren't campers

Today was a lesson in contrasts. The video was taken on the way to the national cathedral, smack in the middle of the city of Manaqua, which was devastated by an earthquake in the 70's and never rebuilt. This shanty town is not a bunch of campers, but rather cane workers protesting their treatment by the Pellas, the owners of the cane sugar plantations and the most prosperous family in Nicaragua. These workers were exposed to DDT for decades, and now suffer liver disease and cancer. Their protest -- which has yielded nothing for them -- is to raise awareness and seek medical compensation. It is hard to represent how large this shanty town is. Consider that this video shows only the first row of tents; they go back more than a city block. They are made mostly of black plastic sheeting. It is hard to comprehend that these people have lived in this place now for more than a year.

We visited a market this afternoon, mostly local artisans and handcrafts. Of course, we did our best to support the local economy by shopping for an hour or so. I got local Nicaraguan coffee beans, which is superb if our morning coffee is representative. I'll bring a bag in and those who have visited my blog can stop by and get a cup when I'm back.

We had time for reflection this afternoon, and our bus driver told us his story. One of my colleagues said, "It is hard to imagine how it must be to living in the place where history was made, to say 'here is where a martyr was dragged' and 'here is where bombs were dropped.'" It was never more apparent than when this quietly dignified man told us, with total aplomb, about learning to make bombs when he was 15, being given his first gun at 16, and being selected as a driver for Ortega. He was also a cocaine addict who has been clean for a decade, but who stayed at his first narcotics anonymous meeting mostly because he didn't want to go home to his mom. His story was riveting and yet he told it as calmly as one might describe a trip to the grocery

Visited the cultural center this evening, where the Maryknoll Sisters have a mission teaching young people music and art. Some absolutely fabulous art graced the walls. We attended evening mass in some oppressive heat, which does seem to be the order of the day. I actually had sweat dripping off my pony tail. I sat in the second row and said "Ola" to the man to my right only to discover he was from Wisconsin. We visited briefly with the priest, who forgave us for being with the Jesuits, given he was a Dominican.

Back to the hotel where I chugged a frosty Corona, something I've not done since college. Right now, my primary thought is gratitude for the life I've somehow stumbled my way into and the air conditioning in my room. And beer. Stay tuned.

Day 2: History, Artistry, and Mosquito avoidance

We were joined this day by an historian, giving us the political context for the country and its evolution / revolution. I actually remember some of this from my college days-- in the seventies, when US soldiers blasted heavy metal at Somoza to get him to leave his compound. Of course, the subtleties and the effects of the US involvement were not as apparent to me then. I was fascinated -- and somewhat horrified -- learning how much we meddled in this country's workings.

We spent the afternoon -- an extremely hot and humid afternoon, I might add - in the country side near Masaya. We visited two artisans who have been funded by a Jesuit micro-lending project. This we seem to have gotten right. The first, a man and his son who make beautiful jewelry and bowls from wood, was gracious and welcoming to us. His wood shop and display building were funded by a small loan. He is an entrepreneur, handing out business cards with his web shop on them. The second, a potter, who makes absolutely gorgeous vases, bowls, and other clay works, used his $1000 to buy a pottery wheel and kiln. He had dressed up for us, and was clearly proud of the work he sells. The young potter made a bottle for us and painted another while we watched. He's switched from pre-Columbian art to nature scenes "because they sell better, and I enjoy them."

The people of Nicaragua have been kind and open to us. They are apparently quite able to separate the people of the US from the politics, and we are the benefactors of that positive distortion. Still, driving across this countryside, where the average weekly salary is little more than $100, one is sometimes overtaken by the staggering effects of poverty. And I am reminded, once again, about how our fortunes are so completely based on an accident of nature.

To the hotel this evening, where I quickly showered off the layers of sunscreen, sweat, and bug spray. We are nearly compulsively avoiding mosquitoes, having heard tales of both malaria and Dengue fever. Ahhh, the sweet perfume of DEET as I drift off to sleep...

Day 1: Air travel and spit up

Traveling with Sandra Mitchell from the Office of Diversity. I near the window, she on the aisle. A young mom asked her to trade with her husband, which Sandra reluctantly did. She definitely got the better end of that deal. I was now on the window side of a young couple with a 3 month old crying infant and 15 month old on their laps. The older girl was apparently quite empathetic with the infant and joined the melee regularly. I am sure I will incur the ire of the likes of Patsy, Traci, and Heidi and all you others in the College who love the little ones, but I was in need of mood altering substances somewhere between the 30 renditions of itsy bitsy spider and the voluminous spit-up. You really just can't get that smell out of your clothes, you know? Meanwhile, Sandra sat in her seat with noise-canceling headphones, watching movies and enduring no spit-up whatsoever.

The photo is from the airport, where we joined up with Keri, Pam and Deb, coming from Detroit and Xavier. Two clowns kept jumping in the background of the photo. Really, they were clowns. On their way to Central America to do some clowning.

When we finally got on the final leg -- which sat on the tarmac for nearly 2 hours while they sorted through bags -- three young 'uns sat in front of us again. Sandra and I both had a near-death experience when we heard the mom utter those three words that strike fear in the short-fused menopausal: "No adult supervision." Having said that, they were reasonably well behaved and the worst we had to endure was a lot of video game patter. From arrival in Nicaragua, though, all went well. No problems in customs and the hotel was lovely, with an indoor courtyard filled with greenery and bird songs, a swimming pool, and a free beer from the group sponsoring us. You gotta love the Jesuits.

Welcome to my blog!

Hello and welcome to my blog! I will post reflections on my travels over the next few weeks as I begin immersing myself in Central American culture with the Ignatian Colleagues Program. I'm leaving for Nicaragua in two weeks, and in high preparation mode. More to come -- stay tuned!