Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band

I’ve returned from my first two official visits to “El Campo” and let me say that, putting altruism and health outcomes aside, it was fun! While my Spanish still needs some improvement before I can properly communicate with these fast-talking people who don’t pronounce the letter “s”, I had fun accompanying and at times helping Leonel in two communities: Papaturro, where we have a pilot test going to bring filters, education, and medicines to the population, and Ojochal. I think the best way to describe the actual visits themselves (we took water samples from wells, filters, and the receiving buckets that hold the “clean” water, and also administered questionnaires) is by comparison. For some strange reason, the neurons in my brain linked the conglomeration of sounds inside one of the houses (roosters, dogs, children crying, sometimes a radio playing, pigs, dogs, etc.) to the beginning of the song Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. I think it’s because the guitar riff sounds like a rooster cock-a-doodle-doing to me, but whatever the reason, conversing with these families had a similar scattered, busy, feeling that I think the song has, mainly because there is simply a lot of background noise.

I don’t think I’ve introduced Leonel into our cast of characters yet. He is one of the members of our “Equipo de Filtros” (that is, Filter Team), and is the point person for educational efforts to help people living in these rural communities to understand proper hygiene and at times how to use and maintenance their filter. Despite having a shaved head on which is usually a Bo-Sox hat, I picture him as a long haired hippy. I have not known him for long, but he has an infectiously warm spirit and enjoys the pure adventure of going to “El Campo” to essentially chat. He shifts artfully between comforting silliness and serious suggestion-making and I feel truly lucky to be working with him, since it seems we will be making more trips together like the ones this weekend.

More about the visits: the first one, on Friday to Papaturro, was to deliver the results of lab tests of people’s water to their homes, to explain to them what the results mean, and to leave them with specific suggestions for how they can continue to improve the quality, and thereby the healthiness, of their water. We visited seven households and despite the clear scarcity of resources, I left with more than I came with because families kept insisted on giving me bags of fruits—jocote and tamarindo, two local fruits which are quite good—and coffee and I don’t really have the language tools to politely refuse offers like that yet. The land itself is beautiful and from many points in Papaturro you can see Concepcion and Maderas, the two volcanoes in Lake Nicaragua, which rise nearly a mile into the sky. There are countless trails connecting the families’ properties which are bounded by fencing to contain cattle, livestock, and other animals. In one of the pictures, you can see Leonel and Antonia (the main “brigadista” or health worker in Papaturro) walking through a field on our way to another home. However, I still don’t understand what takes up people’s time or how they make a living and I imagine that boredom is one of the most prevalent emotions felt here. Many of the animals were noticeably skinny with protruding ribcages. While our pilot project in Papaturro is essentially finished, it seems there is much much more that can be done to help this community to reach an acceptable level of clean water across the board.

Ojochal was similarly resource poor but it seemed that many of the families were very enthusiastic about finding ways to improve the quality of their water. I found this somewhat surprising: taking into account all the possibly issues that a poor family living in Ojochal could have, water quality floats to the top (pun intended)? The fact that the answer to this question tends to be in the affirmative is good, obviously, but still surprising.

Filtros Bio-arena

I am now a full day into my third week here in San Juan del Sur. Week one was a whirl of activities, since it was spring break for many universities in the US, which meant many “Alternative Spring Break” groups here to volunteer. Week two was a bit of an awakening; I realized that I would be here through July, which itself is a long ways away. Several feelings have set in at this point: one is a feeling of purpose since I came here to achieve a goal (and learn about myself and this new country, city, people, etc.), another is a feeling of frustration due to the language barrier that is making ten minute conversations into hour long ones and forcing me to designate larger and larger portions of the day to simply talking with people. The last feeling will take a bit longer to settle in my gut, but it is a sense of routine that underlies my ability to call this place home for the next little while. I’ve joined a gym (yes, San Juan del Sur has a gym, but it reminds me of what inmates must use in prison—concrete walls and floors with second or third hand equipment), I’ve been jogging in the morning, and most importantly, I formulating how the next few weeks and then how the next few months will look.

As a precursor of blog entries to come, initially, I am going to head to each of the communities in “El Campo” (about which I’ve written before) which have biosand filters and testing the filters’ abilities to purify water, their use and incorporation in the daily lives of community members, and survey the families about their health and about their filters. Since the filters were installed, it seems that there is no pulse on whether or not they are doing was they are supposed to, so this needed step could really be an eye-opener.

Very quickly, it’s worth explaining a little about the filter technology: slow sand filtration has been around for a while. In the mid 1990s, a researcher in Canada (who ever said they weren’t good for anything?) developed a new way to build these filters such that after about three weeks of proper use, a bio-layer forms in the top 2 or so centimeters of sand on the filter. This “schmutzdecke” (literally “dirt layer”) contains organisms which add another tool to the filter’s arsenal against parasites and contaminants. Sand by itself can filter water by two methods, both of which are mechanical: straining and adsorption. Straining is easily understood: think finished pot of pasta in the strainer. Adsorption is when contaminants are trapped in the small holes and pores on the surface of the sand grains themselves. The final element (or rather the first element) is the predatory capabilities of organisms in the biological layer; the algae, bacteria, and zooplankton that live there hunt and kill the pathogens in the raw water. However, since this “schmutzdecke” is living, it needs the same things that most other living things need: love (well, proper maintenance) and oxygen. This means that there must always remain 5 centimeters of water above the sand. That’s pretty much it. The nice things about the biosand filter are essentially threefold:
1) The materials (concrete, sand, and PVC piping) can all be found locally, in country—no special technology needed.
2) Very little maintenance is required, only a little stir in the “schmutzdecke” every few months or so. No new parts needed…ever.
3) The flow rate is great: about 1 liter every two minutes, which means that it is almost like running water when you pour dirty water in the top.
The drawbacks are that the filtration capabilities are not 100%. One study pinned the filtration at 98.5% (that is: number of E. coli colonies before minus number of E. coli counts after divided by number of E. coli counts before), which ain’t bad, but it doesn’t look like ours are at that point.

So there you have it. Biosand Filters. Filtros Bio-arena.

Huevos de Toro

Yesterday was my birthday which means that I am technically another year older and possibly wiser. Maybe it’s true, but I certainly don’t feel like that’s the case. Four nights ago, we had something special for dinner. Though this was one of the many times I have had the infamous “Supa” to eat (it is supposedly the Nicaraguan equivalent of eating ten bags of green M&M’s, which is to say, it is supposedly a strong aphrodisiac—but I didn’t feel much different after eating it), this time there was something special sitting right in the center of my soup bowl.

“Que es esto?” I asked.

“Huevos de Tortuga” was the reply.

Earlier in the week, Felix, my “hermano” of sorts, not only told me about the mystical sexual powers of the “supa” but also told me about his varied experiences with the smorgasbord of ingredients that have been known to make an appearance in the soup. One such experience, at least I thought, was about the “Huevos de Toro” which is to say, aka “Rocky Mountain Oysters”, aka Bull’s Balls. Naturally, I suspected that this round, white, somewhat hard object in my supa was…the Huevos de Toro (if you haven’t gotten it yet, Toro is the word for Bull and, well, bulls don’t lay no eggs…). So, I saddled up, got out my fork and knife, and prepared my body, mind, and soul, to undertake (and intake) and new adventure in dining. After slurping the “yoke” out, I was surprised how much the “Huevos de Toro” actually tasted like, “huevos.”

I thought, logically, that “Tortuga” was the place from which the unfortunate bull had come from, however, upon further questioning, realized that my preparation for this culinary adventure was for naught (or at least, my over-preparation). This was in fact the “Huevos de Tortuga” and Tortuga is not a place, it means turtle. So, if you are wondering, turtle eggs taste quite similar to chicken eggs and I am still wondering was “Huevos de Toro” taste like. So I guess I got a little wiser, experientially, and a little stupider, linguistically, which would account for my feeling of general balance despite being able to add another year to my age.

Entender

There are a few verbs which, after about a week and a half, I almost have down pat. “Ir” (to go), “Decir” (to say), “Estar” (to be, one of the two ways to express it), and “Conoscer” (to know, again one of the two ways to express it) are a few. Right up there is the verb “Entender” which means, to understand. For example: “Si, entiendo,” “¿Entiendes?” and, of course, the most ‘understood’ form, “No entiendo.” I have had to get used to interjecting the first person form (“Entiendo”)of the verb into conversations to affirm that, yes, what they are saying to me is in fact being understood, or to interrupting people mid-explanation with a reactionary confused face along with a first person negative (“No entiendo”). It is humbling.

But there is more to understanding than simply comprehending what people are saying to me. Part of the reason I came here is to learn about myself, about my culture, and about how it feels to be in a new place. Sometimes I picture myself speaking English the way that I speak Spanish, knowing full well that I sound like a fool: “I want that I speak Spanish two weeks but I know this is not going to be true in future, wait do I need the word ‘the’?” Aside from certainly having a better understanding about myself, I have a better understanding of what the many immigrants in the U.S. now and in history have felt like. Without the ability to communicate adequately, you seem stupid to those around you and furthermore cannot defend yourself from such projections of stupidity, since doing so would require the use of language. While I am certainly here to help and hopefully leave this place, in some small way, better than it was that it was when I came, I am also here “para entender” and I know that this sentiment of alienation is not the first time it has been felt in history.

The first picture is a view of San Juan del Sur from the Pelican Eyes Hotel, and then second is a picture of my standard greeting home each night from Ester Rosio, the baby of the house. She thinks I'm crazy (loco) and reflexively raises her finger to her head when she sees me. It's nice to know that I am at least recognized.

Bernardino

While I am sufficiently tired after today’s activities, this was actually the first day (barring the day of my arrival) that I didn’t mix (and shovel) concrete. Two nights ago, I met up with an Engineers Without Borders group from Rice University with whom I had been in email contact prior to coming down here. They are here to build a health clinic in one of the remote communities in “El Campo”—the general name of a collection of rural communities surrounding San Juan del Sur—called Bernardino. I come into play because their project is being split into two parts, since they are only able visit for a week in March and a week in May, around their school vacations. So I am going to make sure that the community finishes the foundation in the interim, between the EWB group’s two trips. (The first picture was taken by one of the Nica children in the community, who by the way, loved using my camera. The second picture is of the whole group of workers including the EWB group, Julio the foreman, Miguel the driver and general helping hand extraordinaire, a group of men from Bernardino, and some others).

Today, it was back to La Clinica, the private clinic that is coordinating many of the public health projects in the area, particularly, the water filter project that I am working on. I reviewed with Doctora Anna Patricia how to take someone’s blood pressure (the BP cuff needed a bit of repairing, but after a day with the EWB group, the engineering spirit guided me to success!) and practiced on a few people in the pharmacy and the clinic. There are two clinics in San Juan del Sur. I am still trying to understand the interplay between the two, but I know that one is public and the other is private. The public clinic seems to cater more to emergency medicine, whereas the private one (the one that I am connected to) seems to be the coordinating body for other public health projects, an adult education school, family planning, etc.

In the afternoon, I spent some more time in the clinic, and then went to the Biblioteca Movil (Mobil Library) to study my Spanish. I learned that this is a the only lending library in Nicaragua and the Director, Jane, wishes to make this a prototype for other libraries around the world. They drive into El Campo with books and allow schoolchildren to borrow, read, and then return them; their return rate is 97%--on par with the U.S. libraries. In the evening, I went to a going away party for one of the employees at the library and was able to meet others who work there still. One of my challenges over the next few weeks is going to be, simply, learning about all the projects in this town.

Hoyos - Holes

Spanish word of the day: Hoyos

The ride here was, expectedly, filled with holes. Not figuratively, but literally—filled with holes. The approximately 80 mile drive from Managua to San Juan del Sur took about two and a half hours because of a nauseating need to avoid the many potholes that plagued the road. Even the Pan American highway was at times stricken with potholes. But such is the expected condition; Nicaragua is, after all, a third world country. (The first picture is of the cab ride with Marc Anthony, David, David's surfboard, and I) Nonetheless, Marc Anthony (the cab driver), David (another American who is here in San Juan del Sur for several months) and I reached our destination with plenty of time for dinner.

My family is spectacular(ly large)! I knew ahead of time that my homestay father (or grandfather of types), a man who is referred to simply as “El Pajaro Loco”, is very nice and friendly and will undoubtedly take care of and watch out for me. His family of seven children and twenty grandchildren is well represented in the house at any point during the day. And, a man of my heart, I’ve found that after only three days, he sometimes doesn’t wear a shirt to meals. Most importantly, he said to me (and David, since we are both sharing a room for the time being) the proverbial “mi casa es tu casa” and announced that for the time I was in San Juan del Sur, he would make sure that I was in good hands. I have felt nothing but warmth from a family that, by American standards has little and perhaps more shockingly, by Nicaraguan standards is moderately well-off.

Despite this outpouring of hospitality, the language barrier is humbling. I am barely getting by with the amount of Español that I know and can understand and I realize that perhaps the most important thing that I do in the next two weeks, is improve my Spanish as much as possible. Only then will I even be able to begin the process of understanding this community enough to help. It will be frustrating not having a plan and goals yet, but I think it will be important for me to simply work on understanding San Juan del Sur, its people, and their issues before setting my expectations for these next few months.

So, what have I been doing for the past three days? I have been meeting people and trying to find out the different components of this project which I have come to help with. I have, for a short time, latched onto a group from Boston College (the second picture is of Jason and Eric, from BC, and David and I) who is helping Fidel Pavon, the master builder who physically constructs the water filters at his workshop, to build filters. This involves assembling the three large portions of the steel molds, mixing and pouring the concrete into the molds, waiting a day, and then freeing the concrete containers from the shells. Getting to Fidel’s house has been made simple by El Pajaro Loco and his son, Felix, because they have lent us (David and I) their bikes to make the 4 kilometer trip. I am looking forward to continuing to learn about the filters and to see how they are brought into the rural communities in “El Campo”.

It is interesting to see the subtle but still present influence of Russia. Following the Sandinista Revolution, the new government which took power was more left than America liked. In addition, although the preceding Somoza dictatorship was oppressive and corrupt, it was allied with the U.S. This pushed the new revolutionary government to ally itself with Russia, possibly out of similar politics and definitely out of a need to survive. One of Felix’s first questions to David and I was, “Do you speak Russian?” since David’s last name (Golichowski—it’s actually Polish) sounds Russian. Following our initial conversation, we learned that Felix fought for the Sandinista forces in 1982 -1983 and then went to train the Russian Naval Academy from 1986-1990. In addition, another of El Pajaro Loco’s grandchildren is named Nadiaste (I think that’s how it’s spelled) which I was told immediately is Russian. Es muy interesante.

T-minus 11 hours, 30 minutes

Appropriately so, today is March 4th (Exelauno Day for those of you who understand). Today (well, tomorrow), I am "marching forth" to my new home in Nicaragua. I'm ready to go, my bags are packed and in my hands (temporarily for this picture), and I've quelled my general feelings of nervousness for the time being. I'm going to San Juan del Sur to work on a water filtration project with the Newton-San Juan del Sur Sister City Project (click here for their website) as a Richard D. Lombard Public Service Fellow from Dartmouth. I'll be there from tomorrow morning (March 5) until August 1. I'll be updating this blog during my trip with pictures and commentary so if you want to see how my trip is progressing, bookmark this page and visit it weekly.

That's all for now. Wish me a safe flight!