I'm a Hard, Hard Working Man

So before we start, here’s a quick, 40k ft. overview of what Toni & I do here in Nicaragua…

As “Small Business Volunteers” Toni & I are tasked with two objectives: 1) Implement a small business course in local secundarias – the equivalent of an American high school that only goes to 11th grade, and 2) Consult local Nicaraguan small business owners (the latter of which we will never fulfill being that we’re simply too darn nice to advise Mr. Foamy-Steering-Wheel-Cover Man that American tourists aren’t exactly crazy about foamy steering wheel covers, and even if we were, we could buy them back home where we left our unbearably cold, naked steering wheels).

These were the two areas of attention that we received training for during our hellish three months of pre-service training. However, what we were trained to do, and what we actually do is quite different. The main reason for the discrepancy is our site – Granada. While the majority (99%) of Nicaraguan PC volunteers live in smaller sites, often with less than 1,000 habitants and few amenities (latrines vs. toilets, frequent power outages, slaughter-then-eat your breakfast, etc.), Toni & I were placed in Granada – the Disneyland of Nicaragua.

No, really, if Disneyland were to ever open up a 3rd world country-themed theme park, it’d be Granada. Our SpaceMountain is a kinda-dormant 9k ft volcano to the south of the city. Our seated boat ride is a sweaty tour of Granada’s famed mini-islands. And yes, with the recent opening of Tip-Top Fried Chicken, we even have costumed clowns parading through our streets performing for kids who, thanks to their upbringing in a Latino culture, aren’t completely terrified of them.

But back to the point – while living in Granada has its advantages (mosquito fumigation, electricity, syndicated Oprah), our classroom experience is borderline absurd. Whereas other volunteers have 2 or 3 sections per week, we have 15. Whereas they have 35-40 kids per class, we have over 65. And whereas their kids are at least somewhat respectful being from a more rural setting, it wouldn’t surprise me at all to be beaten & robbed by my students, and I’m just referring to the girls.

The course we teach is similar to the Junior Achievement program you can find in the US. We coach our classes through the entire process of starting up your own small business. As we teach them throughout the school year, they apply what they’ve learned to their own micro-business. In September we host local competitions within each school to select a handful of students with creative business ideas to go on to regional competitions & ultimately, nationals – all hosted & managed by PC Small Business Volunteers (there are 15 of us this year). The few groups that make it all the way to nationals get a real treat in Managua where they stay in a hotel (a life-first for most students) and present their business ideas to successful Nicaraguan business leaders and the US Ambassador. We’re sort of like American Idol in the sense that if any kid ever invents some life-changing product or service, we’ll totally put our stamp all over it. But so far, we’ve only had a few “cute” ideas like purses made of used blue jeans and a facial cream made of honey & oatmeal (there’s no such thing as lawsuits or the FDA down here, so students can invent medicines, booze, shady kids’ toys, etc. without concern – just slap a label on it & sell it).

It all sounds so neat on paper, but in reality, it’s chaos. The school system here is so, so wrong. First of all, classrooms are ridiculously overcrowded. I have one classroom with 70 students that is 14ft x 24ft. Around half of the desktops actually rest on top of neighboring desktops. As a teacher you have no choice but to lecture from the front. To combat the heat (and no, there’s no air conditioning), the top-half of the classroom walls are open – great for a breeze, but a nightmare for lecture. The roofs are typically one sheet of tin so when it rains, it’s impossible to hear anything – normally we just cancel class. One of Toni’s schools cancels class even if it looks like it’s going to rain because kids have to walk home through riverbeds & open fields – no bus services here.

To make matters more interesting, the new Sandinista government that took power in January has thrown out the rule of mandatory uniforms. This allows even more kids to come to school since many families were previously unable to purchase uniforms. Even though uniforms are no longer mandatory, the majority of students still wear them – the only ones who don’t are clearly the “new” students who previously would not have been able to attend – it’s sad. Del Castilla, the new Sandinista Minister of Education has set the goal of having 2 million students enrolled for the current school year. Last year, under the old PLC government, there were 1.36 million students enrolled. Classrooms were already at capacity – you do the math. At both of Toni’s schools, at least 1 class is forced to hold class under a tent. In other sections, kids sit on makeshift benches due to the shortage of desks. It’s great to see all of these kids in school, but it’s a nightmare as a teacher.

Toni & I are currently raising funds to build two new classrooms at one of our schools. The price tag is around $7,000 (US), and we’ve already received a $5,000 grant from USAID. If you know of any organizations or individuals who could help us out with the remaining $2k we would be forever indebted.

Leaky Roof

So in Nicaragua you only have two options when it comes to your roof – “techo de tejas” (a concrete-tile roof) or “techo de asbestos” (an asbestos roof, yes, as in the cancer-causing sort). The former is great for insulation and typically keeps your house 5-10 degrees cooler than the latter – one of the main reasons that Nicaraguans have used it for over 200 years. The downside of the concrete-tile roof however, is that a used volleyball net would do a better job of keeping the rain out. On some clear nights, I can actually see stars and entire constellations looking up from our bed. If it rains two inches in one night, we’ll typically have at least one inch on our floor the next morning (the other inch of course being absorbed by our bed, clothes, and books).

Toni is getting pretty mad that I haven’t gone to talk with the owner yet, but I think he’s only going to laugh in my face when I complain that I have a little water in my house (his house is currently eroding into a 30-foot ravine out back). And plus, to “fix” the holes in the roof means hiring a “muchachito” (little, lightweight Nicaraguan man) to climb up on your roof and move the concrete tiles around, kinda like one of those cheap, plastic, party-favor sliding tile puzzle games where you were supposed to move the pieces to make a pretty butterfly. In the end you’ve moved all of the tiles, but you’ve still got a giant hole.Fortunately, the mosquito net over our bed breaks up the big drops into little bitsy drops that aren’t quite as disturbing while we’re sleeping. So sometimes I pretend that I’m underneath one of those trendy Sharper Image misting fans. Other times I just pretend that I’m Mickey Mouse in Fantasia during that famous, yet scary, flooded basement scene, but I digress.

For Nicaraguans, the month of September is very important.On September 14th they celebrate their Independence Day from the Spanish. And then on September 15th they celebrate a day where a Nicaraguan, Andris Castro, killed an armed American soldier using only a large rock. So we celebrated those days by leaving the city and going to visit a local volcano. The National Park Service was of course, closed, so we had to walk up the volcano (normally they have large safari-like trucks that take you to the top). After about 15 minutes of uphill walking (1/15th the way up), Toni showed some skin to some geologists in a Land Rover and we were on our way to the top in the back of a truck.

On top of Mombacho it was absolutely beautiful. We got to walk around in the cloud forest all by ourselves as the park was closed. Apparently, when the volcano blew up some 10,000 years ago it spewed an entire side of the mountain into the lake. The explosion formed 365 mini-islands that are now owned by richest of the rich in Nicaragua (a few of them have restaurants on them, and one is populated by monkeys). You can actually see the islands in the bottom right hand corner of Toni’s photo in the slideshow. It’s impressive to think that these islands, which were once part of the volcano, are over 5 miles from the base of the mountain. On the way back down we hitched again, but this time with some coffee farmers – way to go wifey.

In other news – a fight broke out in one of my classes a few weeks back. One of the kids ended up stabbing another kid through the elbow with a pen. It was during a class on “Entrepreneurial Skills” which I guess they just didn’t enjoy too much. The sickest part of seeing the whole thing was that my only thought was, “this is gonna make for a good email home” followed by a second thought, “that kid kinda deserved it.”Toni’s classes aren’t much better – she had a kid pull out a fake gun and point it at another student during the middle of class (also coincidentally during “Entrepreneurial Skills” – go figure). The most surprising part for her was that she wasn’t surprised at all. Despite the problems between our students, they really do love us.