Major Update...

Ladies and gents, contrary to popular belief, I haven't died. I've been terribly slack about posting a blog entry for quite some time now, for which, I'm sorry to say, I don't have much of an excuse. I can only say that the past two and a half months (has it really been that long since I've written?) have been full of major transitions...about which, it seems, I have had neither the time nor the words to describe for my faithful readers out there. My sincerest apologies. I would promise to do better, but I would surely disappoint. So I'll just keep doing the best that I can.

I'm in the air over the Gulf of Mexico at the moment, en route from the United States back to Nicaragua. There is so much to tell you, I'm not sure where to begin. First, I have to decide between paying $4 for a bag of peanuts or $3 for a bottle of water...after having paid $15 just to check my one, under-weight suitcase. These airline cutbacks are really starting to make me reconsider traveling. Maybe that's a good thing...

I've been all over the map these past few weeks: New York for the Broadway premiere of GLORY DAYS, a musical written and directed by friends of mine from elementary school days; Washington, D.C. for my sister's graduation from her master's program and my brother's graduation from high school; St. Louis, Missouri for three weeks to perform in the MUNY Theatre's premiere of THE PRODUCERS; Road trip back to D.C. with my sister, via my Grandma's house in Arthur, Illinois; New York again for a few days to see some friends in RENT before it closes on Broadway in September; Back to D.C. to catch this flight back to Nicaragua...all in a few weeks.

Why the pause in my work in Nicaragua? Besides having all of the aforementioned good reasons to be spending time in the states---time which my supporters at the InterExchange Foundation were kind enough to allow me---things took an interesting turn down here in Nicaragua right before I left: The last time I posted a blog (I cringe knowing how long ago that was) I was still working with my dear street kids in Matagalpa, holding class for a couple of hours a day in various subjects (reading, art, even personal hygiene). Right before I was gearing up to head back to the US, I heard the unfortunate news that several of my “students” had been involved in a series of robberies and hold-ups, some of them armed with knives, including stealing the stereo system out of a car belonging to Artesanos' manager. (Artesanos is the café where I had been giving my daily classes.)

A typical class at Artesanos, with (L to R) Donald, Emmanuel, Santiago, and Milan.

Two things came out of this twist of events: Obviously, the owner of Artesanos, being concerned for the safety of his establishment and his customers, had to ask that we discontinue meeting at the café. Secondly, several of the involved persons were arrested and taken away to juvenile centers, often described to me as “work reform camps.” This was where things got strange.

To give a little context, you should know that many of these street kids are members of “street families,” wherein an older kid/teen/adult offers “protection” to the younger kids in exchange for a very large percentage (if not all) of a kid's earnings from begging and stealing. It is essentially organized exploitation, as anyone who has ever read Oliver Twist might understand. Being that I'm a foreigner, and was spending most of my time hanging out with a gang of street kids, it is only natural that I might be suspected of running such an operation. In reality, the kids I worked with probably did have a street “father,” as they're called, though I never met him or even saw him around. But, for all the police knew, I could have been the man behind the curtain.

In the aftermath of the Artesanos car stereo theft fiasco, the police told my friend, Noel, (Artesanos' owner), “That gringo” probably shouldn't be poking his nose around looking for the street kids, and definitely shouldn't be seen hanging out with street kids anymore. There was never a direct accusation made, but the implication was clear: Neither I, nor Artesanos, should ever appear to be aiding and abetting this group of “hardened criminals.”

It's hard to articulate my feelings about the whole event. I was certainly concerned about the kids: The term “work reform camp” was being thrown around far too easily, and I didn't like the way that sounded. And of course I was frustrated, especially because the main perpetrator of the crimes was Milan (the kid with the burns on his face that I met at Christmas, for you faithful readers out there), who is both the youngest and brightest of all the kids I had been working with. I had the most hope that he could break the cycle of violence and desperation at a young enough age to start building a better life for himself. I felt guilty, too, because Milan had recently stopped attending our sessions, and I hadn't put too much pressure on him to come back, thinking that it was best to give him his space and let him come back on his own. And of course there was ANGER. I had really been making some progress, especially with Santiago, on the reading front. We had learned the alphabet up to the letter Q, which, considering the deteriorated status of their glue-mutilated little brains, I considered to be quite decent. And I was confused, too: When I went to go inform my kids that we could no longer hold classes, I found that every single one of my regular participants---including those not involved at all in the robberies---had vanished from the streets overnight. Some of the child service organizations in town had patchy information: So-and-so went to an orphanage in Managua, we think. And So-and-so got hired by some foreigner to be a house-boy/butler of sorts. But I couldn't get any hard facts. Worst of all, I felt that the cloud of mistrust that the police had cast over me and my intentions in working with the kids had somehow tainted what had actually been accomplished.

When all this ñaña hit the fan, I had only a few weeks left before the start of my contract out at the theatre in St. Louis. I spent a couple of those weeks trying to track down the kids, to no avail. And it didn't really seem fair to go around looking for a new place to volunteer, only to disappear a week or two later to go back to the US. In the end, the timing probably worked out according to some greater plan. I was dreading telling the kids that I had to leave for a time and put an end to our daily meetings. I would still certainly choose that to what actually happened---especially not knowing where the kids are or how they are doing---but at the very least, I was spared feeling like I had abandoned the kids. Maybe I could have done more to fight the system, track down the kids, and get them out of trouble. I can second-guess myself about that for as long as I want, but the fact of the matter is, at that point in time, the situation was taken out of my hands. And as much as I craved closure on that chapter of my time in Nicaragua, I think that I had subconsciously prepared myself for something like what happened; expecting the worst, but hoping for the best.

And so it was with extremely mixed emotions that I said my goodbyes to all of my beloved Matagalpino friends, and embarked on my whirlwind tour of the United States. I made good use of the time...catching up with old friends, visiting lots of family along the way, and earning a little bit of dough to keep this crazy Nicaraguan adventure going. I have to admit, though, as I'm in the middle of yet another transition, all this coming and going is taking it's toll on me. I think there is a very good reason why the Peace Corps doesn't allow it's volunteers to go home during their time in-country. On the one hand, I probably would never have come down to Nicaragua if I had thought I would never get to visit my family in the states. But on the other hand, in hindsight, I realize that the repeated transitioning back and forth has been harder on me and my family than it's been worth. I'm fairly convinced that the next time I head back to the States, it needs to be when this whole adventure is said and done, whenever that might be.

Saying 'Goodbye' to friends in Matagalpa...

About two weeks have gone by since I started this blog entry (I got on the plane for Nicaragua on June 28^th, and here we are on July 13^th), which seems to indicate that my promise to do better posting timely blogs still needs a little work. But at least now, after getting my feet back underneath me, I can tell you what I'm actually going to be doing now that I'm back in the country.

Before I left, I made contact with a group called Acción Médica Cristiana (Christian Medical Action), a Nicaraguan organization that provides basic medical services and health education to the poorest populations on the Caribbean coast. The Caribbean coast is a semi-autonomous political region of Nicaragua, separated from the Pacific side by a nearly-impassible mountain range and dense forest region. Nicaraguans think of each region as practically its own country: The Caribbean is inhabited by Costeños, or Coastal people, and the Pacific side by Españoles, or Spanish people. Historically, the Pacific was colonated by the Spanish, and the Atlantic by the British. Therefore, the Pacific peoples are descendants of Spanish Conquistadors and ingigenous people, speak Spanish, and look like most other Central American peoples. The Costeños, on the other hand, are either descendants of indigenous peoples themselves, or descendants of African slaves, brought over to work the land under the British empire. They speak a variety of indigenous languages (Miskito and Rama being the most common), a version of English known as Creole (which I actually find harder to understand than Spanish), and Spanish as a second language. They cook different food (I hear shrimp costs about $0.35 a pound there, and lobster costs just a few bucks...and everything is made with coconut milk), listen to American Country Western Music, and love Reggae. The houses are built up on stilts, due to the propensity for flooding during the Hurricane season, and instead of roads, most places are reached by boats up and and down the streams and swamps. I've been told it's a lot more like Jamaica than any other part of Nicaragua...though I haven't been there yet (or to Jamaica, either) to confirm this analysis.

AMC is one of the major health care providers in the region, which is far weaker economically than the Pacific side, hindered by the fact that one must either fly, or take a long boat ride to reach some of the most remote corners. AMC works in several different project sites, focusing on a variety of health-related issues, such as child malnutrition, sustainable farming, dental hygiene, and HIV/AIDS education. I'm hoping to post some more detailed info about AMC, if I can get my hands on some of their publicity materials when I get back to Managua on Monday. (If you go WAY back to the first blog posts, AMC was the group that put out information related to Hurricane Felix relief efforts back in September.)

For the next two months, I'm going to be volunteering with the field team in the coastal city of Bluefields, working on an HIV/AIDS prevention and education project. Specifically, my job description reads:

• Support the capacitation activities directed to the group of adolescents.

• Form a theatre group with the group of adolescents in order to educate the population on themes related to HIV/AIDS, child sexual exploitation, and violence, taking into account the cultural aspects of the region.

• Form a dance group with the group of adolescents.

• Support the education program that is being developed in the penitentiary system in the city of Bluefields.

• Support the development of a student health program that will be implemented in five schools in the city of Bluefields.

Anyone who knows me, even a little bit, would surmise that this job description has me very excited. It's pretty broad, which, I've been told by the volunteer coordinator, is an invitation to take some initiative and focus in on something that suits my interests. This is such an amazing opportunity for me, because it gives me a chance to work with an skilled group of Nicaraguans, after so many months of working independently, yet still provides me the space to do the things I'm passionate about.

I've been thinking a lot about what this time in Nicaragua has meant for me, in terms of what I'm going to want to do with my life after it's all over. Especially after not having performed in a while, going back to St. Louis to do a show really reminded me that I'm a performer at heart, and will always be. I didn't realize how much I was missing theatre, music, and all the rest, until I got a taste of it again. I have also loved working with this group of children, and I'm now convinced that, wherever I am, and whatever I'm doing, it will always be important to me to have a social cause to which to dedicate myself.

In trying to figure out how to blend these two aspects of my life, I realized that I've already been lucky enough to participate in a couple of different organizations that use the arts as a means of education. My senior year of high school, as an intern at Children's National Medical Center in Washington, D.C., I helped organize lead a weekly poetry and photography workshop for teenagers living with HIV/AIDS. My mentors in that program showed me how effective the arts can be in giving voice to feelings that might otherwise be inaccessible, in building relationships between people with very different lives, and in meeting people---especially young people---exactly where they are.

Those same qualities were reinforced by a brief experience I had in college, when I was brought on as a theatre consultant by a health education program in western Michigan. The organization trained a small group of teenagers (children of Latino migrant farm workers) to become health educators to their peers, helping them develop and perform short plays to illustrate the points they were addressing, regarding positive decision making and personal responsibility. I was only with the group for a short time, having only been invited to deliver a couple of workshops on basic theatre techniques. But based on the enthusiasm of the young volunteers, I could see how effective this organization was---if only in the lives of the volunteers in the program. They were so invested in the program---they even asked if we could put in an extra four hour session before I had to go home the next day.

All this is just to say that I'm excited to have another opportunity to put into practice the idea that the arts can be used for social purposes. That is, we can use creative forms of expression in order to be more effective educators. How much more effective would a play be, written, directed, and performed by young people, meant to educate their own peers, rather than having an old white guy lecture them with slides and handouts and statistics for a couple of hours? The idea isn't new, but it isn't an area that I've had too much experience in before, and I'm excited to try my hand in it again. I'll be letting you know how it goes, of course.

The orientation process that AMC has provided me, and Brent, the other volunteer, has been so thorough, thoughtful, and helpful. I really wish that I had some of their guidance from the outset, almost a year ago. We just spent the past two weeks in a rural community an hour outside of Matagalpa, shadowing the field team on their dental hygiene workshops. We went around to two or three different schools/plantations/community centers every day, toting our faithful puppet Ramon (with a very large set of false teeth and a giant toothbrush) to demonstrate proper brushing techniques. We talked about alternatives when there isn't a toothbrush or toothpaste available (a clean rag wrapped around your finger dipped in salt does the trick, apparently). I taught a song about self-esteem (familiar to any of my Maryland childhood friends as “I'm smart, and I'm strong, and I'm ready for whatever comes along...” of Blue Sky Puppet Theatre fame, only translated into Spanish by yours truly). And then we handed out cookies and soda, and played soccer and red rover and other high-energy games. We were aware of the irony of handing out sugar after our dental hygiene lessons, but the fact of the matter is, that kind of cheap, highly-processed food is all that people can afford in this neck of the woods.

We just got back from the countryside yesterday, and I'm now heading back to Managua for a few meetings, before getting started out in Bluefields next week. Hopefully, I'll do better with the blogging now that I have fun new features to play with on this new location. Pictures will be coming soon.

Must split...

...and catch the bus to Managua, so I can get there before dark. I hate getting a cab from the bus station in the dark. Shady characters abound.

Thanks for reading, and especially for your emails. Take care, and keep checking back.

Much love,

Kendal