Upon arriving in Nicaragua, I had a great many expectations of an idyllic life of orphanage service in a tropical paradise, with the added bonus of a popular consciousness influenced by recent revolution. I stayed my first week in the Managua neighborhood, Colonia Primero de Mayo, where the project "Sí a la Vida" is based. I visited the Casa Nuevo Amanecer (new dawn house) the fully functional project center with basic necessities for the kids fresh off the street. I visited the educators and the neighboring houses affiliated with the project in order to meet my fellow workers and get to know the vibe at "Sí a la Vida." I hung out with the 10 or so ex-street kids that were in the dormitory and ate a few meals with the kids and staff together. During these first days of experience in the city, I came to know the kids, all under the age of 14, and the staff as very friendly and certainly open to my willingness to help out. All seemed quite joyful as most of the kids were very open to emotional expression and immediate connection. We enjoyed playing checkers and soccer.

On the Thursday of my first week in Nicaragua I headed out to the streets with one of the full-time staff members named Rosario to do "outreach" work. She said we would go visit a few parks and spots where kids hang out, bringing along a backpack of first-aid supplies to clean, disinfect, and bandage. Off the bus, we immediately ducked off the fumey thoroughfare into a stinking watershed drainage.

Boys and Bikes

At the park and the market that we visited after the den, I observed some basic physical characteristics of the existence. Almost every "chavalo" carried some sharp pointed weapon. If they were not immersed with their face in a container of glue, then they were often playing with the weapon they carried or rustling their crowd with violent gestures. Now I realize, this is clearly the essential pre-project reality of the project’s "target population". From the first half hour in which I breathed in the "second-hand" fumes of glue, a headache set in which only intensified as we walked and crossed the crowded roads. With a single morning's exposure, the physical toll of this life seemed to be too harsh to bear.

In fleeting moments during that first Thursday morning in Nicaragua, I noticed some emotional communication that appeared to be very desperate and all the more honest. Some of the kids were able to take a few moments out of the morning's "stoning" to discuss the potential of coming over to the project. I tried rapping with a few kids over the happiness of three meals a day, a roof, and a loving supportive community. Some of the kids appeared to allow themselves to contemplate this possible reality. While Rosario cleaned their wounds or disinfected foot funguses, the kids seemed open, friendly, and surprisingly coherent. In the midst of a typical day's stoned-out desperation, a child faces the greatest challenge both physically and emotionally in trying to move from the rhythm of addiction and self-destruction.

In my remaining time in Managua before setting off for my permanent situation in Altagracia, I felt the joy of creating a new cultural identity for myself and the challenge of speaking a different language. I played and shared time with the bright enthusiastic kids of the Casa Nuevo Amanecer. But I learned little or nothing about their individual struggles

II. Project Structure

At the Managua center, I observed an organizational structure that was thoroughly grounded in local grass-roots activism. Jonathan Roise had co-founded the project in 1994 with Mercedes Guido, a Nicaraguan community activist, in Villa Austria. Both saw the need for community action to surmount this problem. The community acknowledged the challenges of taking on a responsibility for the lives of street children and utilized the motivational energy of neighbors and friends.

The work began with outreach to the local markets, parks, and hangouts to establish some form of a trusting relationship with the young boys and girls. Neighbors lent their porches for the first small group of kids to sleep. In the six months before obtaining a permanent structure, the expanded project relied on a local Communitarian/liberation theology church to house and to feed kids at night. With money dearly raised, Jonathan Roise purchased a lot adjacent to the house of one of the project's educators and started to build the "Nuevo Amanecer" dormitory/center. The living space was created on an empty lot of mud which at first only contained a single orange tree and a water line. The initial building containing a set of bedrooms, the kitchen, and the living spaces was financed largely by two donations from the British Embassy in Managua.

Jonathan has continued to seek donations through the University Friends Meeting in the Seattle, Washington, area and from some international organizations based in Managua. The underlying structure is extremely pragmatic. The approach to helping one young life at a time guides all levels of organization in "Sí a la Vida." Throughout the past five years, around 300 kids have gone through the Managua house with nearly half of those spending a significant period, i.e., more than a month. Many kids have been enrolled in local public schools. A large number have graduated from the project to become stable participants in the local community.

Jonathan came to this line of work in Nicaragua after four years of volunteer service with the Quaker Friends house in Mexico and then Managua. His internal spiritual pursuits are grounded in the earthy Quaker values. According to Jonathan, the "Sí a la Vida" structure was most strongly influenced by the Quaker Friends consensus-based organizational structure. The simple idea for this practice is to take into account equally all voices of a group without the ultimate rule of one or more individuals. As described by the Friends 1979 Triennial, the international work of service and community building is intended "to facilitate loving understanding of diversities among Friends, while we discover together, with God's help, our common spiritual ground…"

III. The Challenges of Altagracia.

But when I stepped off the bus on the dusty main street of Altagracia, this vision succumbed to reality.  Internally, the local reality of time and space hit me like a lead anvil falling from the sky.   I was previously unaware of the cultural implications of a house in the "City" of Altagracia (population just over 4,500). Altagracia posed countless external influences – store fronts offering glue, young girls, fire crackers, wealth among poverty, and large numbers of other kids who offered their own temptations.

Temporary Dorm Room

My idealistic intentions were tested as soon as I entered the project house, located two blocks off the central square. I observed the blaring television with all the kids gathered around. I heard harshly commercial music listened to repetitively by the kids. I observed a lack of positive activity occurring in the project house except for required chores and errands. The "living" room where the children sat was separated by a "sheet" from four small metal beds, each placed closely together, head to the wall.

Behind a thin wood wall was a smaller room with four beds of similar arrangement. The sleeping quarters looked cramped and because, of the number of boys, overcrowded. I would sleep for the next week on the floor while I found another place.

Observations and Insights

I was unsure of how to deal with the stark cultural forces and customs I was up against. I was coming to this work to be a positive influence on the lives of seven chavalos (ex-street kids ages 11-16), as well as two "prometores" (stabilized 18 and 20 year olds). I knew this project was in its first year, intended to be a medium term rehabilitation center for those chavalos who had graduated the Managua program, stabilized and were ready to participate in grounded community life. I recognized the project will wait at least another 6-8 months for the completion of the first of three dormitory houses on the land outside of town. 

On the most practical level, "Sí a la Vida" is in constant need of volunteers and funding. The project is entirely dependent on the inflow of charitable donations with the exception of a meager income earned by the kids themselves making woven "friendship bracelets" or pulseras. The pulseras are exported directly to the States and Spain. The kids are able to bank them immediately with Jonathan who pays the kids pocket money for their work. The project is looking into new modes of entrepreneurial activities for these kids. Ideas include teaching them hammock-making and the construction of a bakery at the new house site. I have also added the possibility of dried fruit production by bringing down a dehydrator for use by the kids. The dehydrator will arrive at the end of December.

The guiding vision for the agricultural development is agro-reforestation. The present state of the land, entirely devoted to plantain production, is to be slowly converted into a productive forest of fruit, nut and raw-building-material trees. There are approximately 40 trees already transplanted in varying sites around the property. My work has been to compose a plan including lists of tree species and specific characteristics. I have also begun mapping out the land according to regions specific for vegetable plantings and small tree production. I have walked all over scouting out what areas shall be best for what crops. I have learned for example that cacao, a powerful native plant to the island, is appropriate for a large section of shaded slope just above the lake shore. I have suggested that the bulk of the land shall be devoted to the large fruit trees, such as mango, avocado, and a luscious avocado-like sweet, orange-colored fruit called sapote. With 17 acres, there is plenty of space for eventual self-sufficiency in terms of fruit needs for the fifty or so kids.

I have proposed the development of vegetable and medicinal herb gardens in certain limited spaces, where the volcanic rock is not excessively abundant ( the theme of the land is actually large boulders - hence the usefulness of bananas which have very shallow roots systems.) The production of a few staple vegetables seems plausible, but there is certainly the question of establishing some form of personnel responsibility for the gardens once I leave. I believe that the development of a medicinal herb garden is extremely important in both the lives of project youth and in the preservation of indigenous knowledge of native healing plants. Both of these efforts will take a significant amount of motivational energy on my part. There are ample resources on the island for seeds and plant knowledge; it is simply a matter of making the vision come to life with devoted time.

My agricultural development role is in no way my only meaningful contribution to this community. I have realized that the present work on the land is mostly the moving of rocks for a road and eventually to clear some space for a garden. The kids do not enjoy the road building, but they participate. I have experienced profound moments of emotional connection with two of the boys, while sharing this task of road building. During Saturday work sessions we have discussed everything from family experiences, to capitalist hegemony, to the desirability of smoking. The point is that during such manual labors as moving of rocks and digging, space is created for the foremost work I call "the Communication Project." Nearly all of my time spent with the project youth is in direct relation to this intention. After Saturday morning work periods on the land, they have received a dose of strenuous "therapeutic" activity. They feel stronger and their levels of self-esteem are shining. I do look for ways to encourage them to enjoy this work and not just take the usual grudging attitude towards completion. For me, the manual labor and other productive activities provide the opportunity to share calm focused communications.

In actuality, I am constantly thinking how amazing it is that I share so many similarities of adolescence with these kids, from drug use to blatant disrespect for family and life. I was never aware until it was too late that my family, my house, my food, and everything, including the basic necessities, was all gifted to me without an ounce of work on my part. Nor did I ever really want to work, except maybe to mow the lawn for ten dollars. The fact that these kids have actually gone from desperados, barely surviving on the streets, to members of a supportive family/community is profound.

Frustrated by the lack of techniques for communication, I have begun to pursue work with our local psychologist, Karla. We have established a regular session with each chavalo, where, at this point, I am just listening. Karla is surely the most progressive force in this town, in our project, and in my life in terms of real heart-to-heart communication and hence, positive change. She has been working with the kids for several months; however, her life is somewhat hectic due to the common theme of domestic problems, and she is not exactly constant with her schedule.

The first few sessions with Karla and the kids have been truly profound, relative to my personal efforts to communicate with chavalos in ordinary life situations. We have met in her office, a typical Freudian couch and desk set-up, but plan to broaden our work to include sessions out in nature. The sessions are proving to be the only intimate space where, the emotional barriers can be exposed and worked at with compassion and other practical tools. Karla has many techniques learned in her university studies, such as the use of props and games to describe personal history and access emotion. I am amazed at how honest each chavalo becomes when there are no peer distractions.

Jonathan and the project staff seem to embrace my intentions; however, they are themselves somewhat representative of this culture, as am I when I forget to listen to my own inner voice of calm. In this environment, I find that I am far more sensitive to the forces of anger and aggressiveness. I find myself often wanting to push the limits with these kids and shout at them, "Wake up and start respecting life." I am equally as sensitive here to my own egotistical impulses and frustrations, so that now I am beginning to search harder for solutions on a cultural level.

IV. Some Broader Societal Observations.

The poverty that I have come to know in Nicaragua cannot simply be classified as a lack of material wealth.

I am trying in some ways to influence the minds and desires of my "target population" through food. Occasionally, I have made up a salad for some of the kids to try, or brought over some greens from my garden to toss in with the rice and beans. Their diet is not something that I see as practical to work with, although the kids are always interested in the strange colors and shapes garnishing my plate.


  
I also attempt to use the struggle these kids have with glue to educate them about poverty and the universal struggle against the exploitation of life for profit. We discuss the fact that their drug of choice is consciously, legally manufactured for their use by a transnational company called HB Fuller. Some of the older boys are fascinated by my ramblings about these global systems, and they actually seem to feel connected to a universal struggle in their own paths of addiction and poverty. Though the Nicaragua of twenty years ago was swept into popular revolt, the energy of struggle here has subsided to deal with the reality/poverty that has always been the socioeconomic foundation of life.

To look at some of the environmental factors that bring these kids into the streets with almost no one to give a damn, I must address what I have come to learn about poverty in Nicaragua and specifically here on the island. In Nicaragua in 1996, unemployment reached a staggering 50% (down from 75% in the late 1980s) and continues at or around that level. About 60% of the population live in urban areas where there is the most concentrated means of employment, especially Managua. With a present minimum wage of about US $.55 an hour and an inflation rate of 10%, there is seemingly very little hope of comfortable survival for the masses. The majority of Nicaraguans participating in economic activity or the job market are classified into the informal sector or constitute small or micro enterprises. Those participating in the largely agricultural informal sector of business often do not have any fixed property, work seasonally on small idle land, or are jobless parents/spouses. In Managua, the extreme of the informal sector is characterized by the traffic light vendors who suffer their days hawking water or plastic junk in the midst of fumey intersections. The lack of any substantial income tax base for the Nicaraguan government contributes to a lack of funding for social programs.

On Ometepe, the majority of the residents have some connection to agricultural labor. Many of the town dwellers own some piece of land on the island, which provides either basic grain, plantains, or some animal production. Most if not all houses are active in some small scale business operation, which is entirely community based. Examples include house front stores, house front bar/restaurants, billiard halls, or home production of some food staple such as bread or corn tamales. There are the few wealthy families that live in the prominent houses on main street and own some substantial land on the island and/or have some off-island wealth.

The social stratification in Nicaragua is seemingly simple, just staring at the physical signs of distribution of wealth. Who has to scurry around just to make a few cents, and who enjoys luxury sport utility vehicles and salaries paid in US dollars? In a country like Nicaragua, it is a very stark contrast to see the wealth of the ruling class flaunted in the midst of such a retrogressive tax system (no income tax except for the wealthiest minority and a sales tax of 15% on everything except for food-stuffs). What is more elusive for me is how stratification and poverty is determined by the relationships Nicaraguans have with their families and their bodies. In my small town, considered well-off in Nicaragua, there are ample situations of domestic violence and consumption of alcohol. There is no health consciousness.

These trends seem so ironic in a campesino (peasant) culture based firmly in earthly subsistence. The following quote from the chairperson of International Flavors and Fragrances (recently "retired" thank you), explaining his marketing strategy, has proven to be incredibly useful for me in pinning down some of the observed systemic forces at work.