We have just returned to the U.S. for about a month for Jonathan to do some contract work and to see some family. It has been roughly eleven months since our last trip here--and our eyes have become accustomed to the Nicaraguan view. So here are 24 observations that jumped out during our first 24 hours "stateside" in no particular order.
1. The shoulders here are wider than the roads there.
2. Neon. So many electric lights everywhere.
3. Hot water comes right out of the sink!
4. Boarding plane in Managua: 88 degrees. Exiting plane in Austin: 34 degrees
5. Went to buy post-it notes: there were a DOZEN options to consider. Repeat that experience for every decision.
6. We can read ALL the street signs--and quickly!
7. The buildings are so far apart.
8. After accepting #3--we saw a CAR WASH with hot water. Yep--hot water, for CARS.
9. Blankets and coats: they're not just for decoration any more
10. Donuts. That's for real.
11. Even downtown...so quiet. Absolutely zero public address systems advertising anything.
12. Bureaucracy: It can still take all day to get something done...but the waiting room ambiance is so much nicer.
13. Here, if someone has two of an item, they have a spare. In Nicaragua, it automatically qualifies them as a store.
14. TV channels? All English.
15. Car rides do not require a sports bra.
16. Meat
17. Everything is sooo big. There is so much empty space around everything--around buildings, around parked cars, around pieces of furniture in a house... empty space everywhere!
18. Inhaling that first plate of Tex-Mex like a shipwrecked sailor locating his first fresh water.
19. My poor digestive system, overwhelmed by that plate of Tex-Mex.
20. Boy howdy, these 'Merican ladies love them some gigantic scarves.
21. Free refills. That's a thing.
22. Technology everywhere! The gas pumps, and fast food joints are covered up with flat screens and computerized interfaces.
23. The roads are so smooth, and traffic free. And you can go so fast if feels like flying.
24. Cheese. It's everywhere. And even better than I remembered.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Sunday, November 3, 2013
October Update
BOO!
(I know, a day late - but it's the surprise of it that makes it scary. Bet you thought I was going to type Hello All):
I can't believe another month has flown by! It has been busy and we are looking forward to a brief visit to the US. It can't get here soon enough.
I have just returned from the another trip to the Rio Coco. It is such a blessing for me to have this incredible opportunity. You can read more about it here.
We continue to dispense glasses through our new optical office in the Clinica Medica Cristiana which is part of the Misión Para Cristo facility. Our old autorefractor is showing its age and we are blessed to have a newer tabletop version on the next container. We have been using the old one as a mobile unit, even taking it to the Rio Coco, but it is not designed for that. We have prospects of getting our hands on a new handheld, mobile unit as we await results of some grants.
This is a picture of a little girl, Carmen Alicia Lopez, wearing sunglasses. You have assisted in providing transportation from Jinotega to Managua several times for doctors visits. This week she went for her fifth (and hopefully final) surgery to repair her eye conditions. Since birth she began developing a form of juvenile glaucoma and cataracts. Since helping her she and her family have attended church with us and blessed us with bags of corn to share with the staff. Just wanted to share a very tangible result of your generosity.
About eight months ago one of our workers came to me to inform me that he told a community member that Sheila and I would be the God-parents to their soon-to-be-born baby. This was quite a surprise and when asked what all that entailed he told me that mainly it meant prayers and they might occasionally need help with something. That scared me. All I could see was having to foot the bill for a quinceanera in fifteen years. I was assured that was not the case and so far we have only been asked to buy a package of diapers and a bottle of medicine after she had a short stay in the local hospital. She and her parents drop by about once a week to say, "Hi." Her picture is attached also. Her name is Eliara.
We are hoping to file our residency papers this next week. We ended this month by turning all the official documents over to the Nicaraguan attorney for official translation and notarization. God willing, we will make a trip to Managua next week to the immigration office with the completed packet. Please pray for prompt and positive responses to this and the processes to follow.
Hope to see some of you soon.
Friday, November 1, 2013
The Rio Coco...with a different feel
This last week I returned from the Rio Coco (Coconut River) on what I think was my seventh trip to the remote, indigenous region. I have described this as extreme camping, but have come to love and appreciate these excursions. I find the people there incredibly friendly for the most part, and appreciative of our visits, whether we are bringing them something, or just checking up on them. I also love the river trips because I am permitted time with just my brain/God/music/book – which is good some of the time. I also like to be out of cell phone range. The trip this time was a mixed bag of emotions.
It was really dark long after dawn…
We began by leaving the community of Wiwili in the canoes at about 5:45 in the morning. As we pulled away from the dock we were flagged down by a young couple with a couple of bags and a box. “That’s my cousin and her husband. They need a ride to San Andres,” said Karolina, our Miskito translator. Alberto, our trip leader, said we had room and so we crossed over to where they waited. As we got closer it became evident that the box was a very small casket. The night before, their four-month-old son succumbed to a bout of pneumonia.
As the sun broke over the mountain in the east a dark cloud of emotion loomed over the trip and continued in spite of the bright sunshine. The soft, constant weeping of two parents as they leaned over the simple, infant-sized wooden box, stroking it and rubbing the cross on the lid, was broken occasionally by the uncontrolled wail of a mother trying to mourn an unfathomable event. While the rest of us stopped at the village of La Esperanza (The Hope) for the night, the young family continued on to our ultimate destination of San Andres. It seemed as we stopped for hope, they continued without any.
One week later, at midnight, the silence of the balmy river night was brought to an end by a chorus of loud voices that sounded like a riot outside of the church where our hammocks hung. Across the street a group had gathered to pray and mourn with the family. Prayers were uttered in a half-cry, half-scream fashion, candles were lit and those mourning huddled in a small mass for the infant and his parents. The scene was repeated at seven the next morning, and again later in the day. Those of us who heard and witnessed these things were left with a helpless, uncomfortable feeling and can only imagine what goes through the minds of the family at this time in this place.
San Andrés, the twin’s city…
San Andres is the central community and by far the largest of those in the region we frequent. It seems as though there are many sets of twins for a community no bigger than San Andrés. It is there that I find an incredible contrast to how this trip began. Arrival in San Andrés allowed me the opportunity to reflect on how much more common (and more comfortable) it is to hear the normal laughter of the children playing on the Rio Coco verses the family grieving a recent death.
Two of my new friends on the Rio Coco are 4-year-old twins John and Ian. Their house is next to the church building. John and Ian have an older brother and three older sisters. There is also a new baby that is either a boy or girl – I’m not sure. Because they have not started school yet these twins speak only Miskito, but have learned that when a Miliki (Miskito for Gringo) speaks to you, you respond with, “Si.” One of the beautiful things about these two little guys is that they don’t care how badly I massacre Spanish, they are going to answer, “Si,” anyway. My other favorite thing about these two is that they laugh. They laugh when I speak Miskito, when I wink or make a silly face, when they see me walk by their house and even when they don’t know I can hear them. They are very happy – even though they have three older sisters.
They are also among the poorest families in this area. To be the poorest of the poor means you don’t even have the fancy store-bought top, the wooden car or any of the simplest toys. John and Ian hardly have clothes that cover them. Their sisters have to go across the road to borrow agiant mortar and pestle used to crush the rice and corn. Yet the twins, as well as the rest of the family laugh – a lot. It is not unusual to see John dragging a wooden block with a string or Ian spinning a rescued soft drink can on a spindle like a propeller. They are genuinely happy – and it’s not because they got a new X-Box.
John and Ian are one of the five sets of twins I have met in San Andrés (and they are my favorite. Shhh - don’t tell the others.)
What to do with a bad uncle…
One afternoon while sitting in front of the church as the kids invited me to play a round of “take a picture of me in the tree” two shotgun-armed national policemen who patrol San Andres walked by with a man in escort formation. One of the children said, “That’s my uncle. He’s bad.” This statement prompted me to ask, “Where are they going?” Matter-of-factly Rachel replied, “They are probably going to shoot him.” Without giving it much more thought I said, “He must really be bad,” and turned my attention to the next call, known universally by children as, “Watch what I can do!”
About four minutes later I heard the unmistakable report of shotgun. “Yep. They shot him,” said Rachel in her same monotonous descriptive voice as before. Honestly, when she said they were going to shoot that man I didn’t believe her. Now, with a lump in my throat I reviewed the last couple days to see if I could have done anything offensive. Seems justice is not swift, but immediate in San Andrés.
My mind reeled as I wondered what could have prompted such drastic measures. It wasn’t but a few minutes later that he two officers walked by, passing the other direction – without Uncle Bad. I reasoned to myself that if they shot him close to the river, since it was up and the current strong, they would not have to worry with burial or cleanup.Still, I could not wrap my head around this. Even in the Old West you got a trial before the gallows and a trip to Boot Hill.
This was just about to get the best of me when Uncle Bad meandered by. No blood, no limp, nothing. He looked just as he did before his execution. Rachel looked down on me from her branch and said, “Maybe they didn’t shoot him.” Maybe not, Rachel. Maybe not.
.jpg)
My work here is done…
Ana Karolina is about seven years old. She lives in the village of Tuburus (too boo ROOS.) Her father serves as the local preacher. When the canoes pull up she is always the first down to the bank to greet the travelers. As the only one I consistently recognize and can call by name in this village besides her father, I usually have a lollipop for when she greets us.
Ana Karolina is a typical Nicaraguan child. Kids on the Rio Coco, and pretty much throughout all of Nicaragua, as I have experienced it, understand that younger children are the responsibility of everyone who is older. Baby is number one and anyone older than baby is responsible to make sure said baby is not falling off high places or getting eaten by a monkey.
Such was the case of Ana Karolina. As a small crowd gathered, made up of people spanning the entire age range, a young teenager appeared with a baby, obviously in her charge for time being. Ana Carolina had already begun enjoying the “bon-bón” as they call it. The baby was obviously unhappy about something and was voicing her displeasure at the top of her tiny little lungs. Ana Karolina sprang into action. She immediately turned, removed the sucker from her mouth and directed it to the screaming baby. It was her job as a first responder, with the appropriate equipment in hand, to assist when duty called.
With one fell swoop the baby swatted the sucker from Ana Karolina’s hand causing it to fly through the air and splat in mud. Please focus your visual image on the fact that the river had been higher in recent days and recent rains could possibly make for muddy situations. Do NOT consider the livestock cohabitating on the same beach.
In the interest of choosing the baby’s happiness (and quietness) over personal health Ana Karolina scooped up the lollipop, cleaned it as though she were taking a culture of her tongue, and returned it to the baby. This time the baby gracefully accepted the gift and enjoyed it unprotested.
Ana Karolina dusted off her hands and returned to area where our canoes hand landed, satisfied that she had saved the day and accomplished her mission. This helps me understand why all those parasite pills we deliver seemed to be less effective than we’d hoped.
It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you…
Pankawas (PAWN kuh wahz) may be my favorite community on the Rio Coco. (Shhh...don't tell the others.) I consider the preacher, Urbino, a friend and his family are very nice people. Pankawas is a difficult place to visit. They are perched high above the river and seem much closer to the sun. There are very few Spanish speakers and being armed with little-to-no useful Miskito, my communication skills are limited to trying to get someone to understand my Spanish enough to translate it into Miskito. It is a humbling challenge to visit there.
Yet even without shared language, I feel a connection there. Pankawas is a small village. There is a little old lady (probably my age, but it is a hard life so they look older), Antonio, who thinks he might be 101, and of course, the preacher and his family. Then there are a bazillion kids. From the church you can see only about a dozen homes. Where do they all come from? Is there a hidden cave? How can they hear the bag of candy open from wherever they are? Have they not yet learned that chewing and swallowing the horrid anti-parasite pill is a prerequisite to receiving the candy? Is that one a boy or a girl?
Without a word the children seem to gather in the church for the show. I then (you may find this to be surprising) begin to act like I am going to chase or tickle or bite or cry or laugh or whatever. They laugh at the silly old Gringo and the funny faces he makes. At least I hope that is why they are laughing. Meanwhile they continue to do that “you can’t catch me” glare.
After I am tired of that game I walk towards the door opening. They run to a tree and make a line for a rousing game of “Make the Old Gringo Have a Heart Attack.” This is their chance to be swung in a circle by the arms. They know the rules – where the line is, how many revolutions, one turn each, etc. Yet, I have never said a word. To my knowledge, neither has any adult standing around commented on the rules of the game. It is late that night when I sway in my hammock that I reflect
a) It was a fun trip to Pankawas;
b) There was a lot of laughter;
c) Words aren't always needed;
d) I will need four adults to roll me out of my hammock and help me off the floor in the morning.
This latest trip to Pankawas was their first opportunity to have a movie. Using a generator, giant screen, DVD and projector we showed the Spanish version of a movie. They don’t speak Spanish. Yet they watched and laughed at the slapstick as it unfolded.
The two previous trips to Pankawas I have made it a point to take a portrait-type photo of the preacher and his family. (See above.) I give it to them as a small gift on the subsequent trip. People on the Rio Coco don’t have pictures of themselves or their children. As I lined them up for this trip’s picture Urbino stood up and took the camera from me. He handed it to one of our workers and motioned for me to go sit down. He then moved his wife out of the camera view and asked one of our workers to take my picture with his family. That was just sweet of him. I was touched by this gesture. Pankawas has nice people. They don’t have cellular signal either.
I struggle with my usefulness and purpose, especially on the river. I am reminded that my job is to take pictures, smile and be available. I know I get far more out of these trips than I give and I have a very selfish prayer that God allows me to continue. The people on the Rio Coco live a meager existence. But it is meager by our standards, not theirs. There is much laughter and the slower pace is relaxing to say the least. Yes, they work hard, even the children. But they play hard, too. We Americans could learn a thing or two from them. Don't feel sorry for the people on the Rio Coco. That's not to say they don't need help with some things that we can provide, but they don't need a change of lifestyle. God is taking care of them in the way He sees fit. He does the same for us.
When I ride along in the canoe I listen to a very old song, "His Eye On the Sparrow" written by Civillia Martin in 1905 and based on Matthew 10:29, and think about how it fits the people on the river. Inevitably I end up relating it to how God has taken care of me and used the river trips to bless me. Please put in a good word to the Good Shepherd for the people on the Rio Coco…so I can keep learning.
Dahwan bliss mimumbia (God bless you).
*
It was really dark long after dawn…
We began by leaving the community of Wiwili in the canoes at about 5:45 in the morning. As we pulled away from the dock we were flagged down by a young couple with a couple of bags and a box. “That’s my cousin and her husband. They need a ride to San Andres,” said Karolina, our Miskito translator. Alberto, our trip leader, said we had room and so we crossed over to where they waited. As we got closer it became evident that the box was a very small casket. The night before, their four-month-old son succumbed to a bout of pneumonia.
As the sun broke over the mountain in the east a dark cloud of emotion loomed over the trip and continued in spite of the bright sunshine. The soft, constant weeping of two parents as they leaned over the simple, infant-sized wooden box, stroking it and rubbing the cross on the lid, was broken occasionally by the uncontrolled wail of a mother trying to mourn an unfathomable event. While the rest of us stopped at the village of La Esperanza (The Hope) for the night, the young family continued on to our ultimate destination of San Andres. It seemed as we stopped for hope, they continued without any.
One week later, at midnight, the silence of the balmy river night was brought to an end by a chorus of loud voices that sounded like a riot outside of the church where our hammocks hung. Across the street a group had gathered to pray and mourn with the family. Prayers were uttered in a half-cry, half-scream fashion, candles were lit and those mourning huddled in a small mass for the infant and his parents. The scene was repeated at seven the next morning, and again later in the day. Those of us who heard and witnessed these things were left with a helpless, uncomfortable feeling and can only imagine what goes through the minds of the family at this time in this place.
**
San Andrés, the twin’s city…
San Andres is the central community and by far the largest of those in the region we frequent. It seems as though there are many sets of twins for a community no bigger than San Andrés. It is there that I find an incredible contrast to how this trip began. Arrival in San Andrés allowed me the opportunity to reflect on how much more common (and more comfortable) it is to hear the normal laughter of the children playing on the Rio Coco verses the family grieving a recent death.
Two of my new friends on the Rio Coco are 4-year-old twins John and Ian. Their house is next to the church building. John and Ian have an older brother and three older sisters. There is also a new baby that is either a boy or girl – I’m not sure. Because they have not started school yet these twins speak only Miskito, but have learned that when a Miliki (Miskito for Gringo) speaks to you, you respond with, “Si.” One of the beautiful things about these two little guys is that they don’t care how badly I massacre Spanish, they are going to answer, “Si,” anyway. My other favorite thing about these two is that they laugh. They laugh when I speak Miskito, when I wink or make a silly face, when they see me walk by their house and even when they don’t know I can hear them. They are very happy – even though they have three older sisters.
They are also among the poorest families in this area. To be the poorest of the poor means you don’t even have the fancy store-bought top, the wooden car or any of the simplest toys. John and Ian hardly have clothes that cover them. Their sisters have to go across the road to borrow agiant mortar and pestle used to crush the rice and corn. Yet the twins, as well as the rest of the family laugh – a lot. It is not unusual to see John dragging a wooden block with a string or Ian spinning a rescued soft drink can on a spindle like a propeller. They are genuinely happy – and it’s not because they got a new X-Box.
John and Ian are one of the five sets of twins I have met in San Andrés (and they are my favorite. Shhh - don’t tell the others.)
***
What to do with a bad uncle…
One afternoon while sitting in front of the church as the kids invited me to play a round of “take a picture of me in the tree” two shotgun-armed national policemen who patrol San Andres walked by with a man in escort formation. One of the children said, “That’s my uncle. He’s bad.” This statement prompted me to ask, “Where are they going?” Matter-of-factly Rachel replied, “They are probably going to shoot him.” Without giving it much more thought I said, “He must really be bad,” and turned my attention to the next call, known universally by children as, “Watch what I can do!”
About four minutes later I heard the unmistakable report of shotgun. “Yep. They shot him,” said Rachel in her same monotonous descriptive voice as before. Honestly, when she said they were going to shoot that man I didn’t believe her. Now, with a lump in my throat I reviewed the last couple days to see if I could have done anything offensive. Seems justice is not swift, but immediate in San Andrés.
My mind reeled as I wondered what could have prompted such drastic measures. It wasn’t but a few minutes later that he two officers walked by, passing the other direction – without Uncle Bad. I reasoned to myself that if they shot him close to the river, since it was up and the current strong, they would not have to worry with burial or cleanup.Still, I could not wrap my head around this. Even in the Old West you got a trial before the gallows and a trip to Boot Hill.
This was just about to get the best of me when Uncle Bad meandered by. No blood, no limp, nothing. He looked just as he did before his execution. Rachel looked down on me from her branch and said, “Maybe they didn’t shoot him.” Maybe not, Rachel. Maybe not.
.jpg)
****
My work here is done…
Ana Karolina is about seven years old. She lives in the village of Tuburus (too boo ROOS.) Her father serves as the local preacher. When the canoes pull up she is always the first down to the bank to greet the travelers. As the only one I consistently recognize and can call by name in this village besides her father, I usually have a lollipop for when she greets us.
Ana Karolina is a typical Nicaraguan child. Kids on the Rio Coco, and pretty much throughout all of Nicaragua, as I have experienced it, understand that younger children are the responsibility of everyone who is older. Baby is number one and anyone older than baby is responsible to make sure said baby is not falling off high places or getting eaten by a monkey.
Such was the case of Ana Karolina. As a small crowd gathered, made up of people spanning the entire age range, a young teenager appeared with a baby, obviously in her charge for time being. Ana Carolina had already begun enjoying the “bon-bón” as they call it. The baby was obviously unhappy about something and was voicing her displeasure at the top of her tiny little lungs. Ana Karolina sprang into action. She immediately turned, removed the sucker from her mouth and directed it to the screaming baby. It was her job as a first responder, with the appropriate equipment in hand, to assist when duty called.
 |
| Ana Karolina to the rescue. |
Ana Karolina dusted off her hands and returned to area where our canoes hand landed, satisfied that she had saved the day and accomplished her mission. This helps me understand why all those parasite pills we deliver seemed to be less effective than we’d hoped.
*****
It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you…
Pankawas (PAWN kuh wahz) may be my favorite community on the Rio Coco. (Shhh...don't tell the others.) I consider the preacher, Urbino, a friend and his family are very nice people. Pankawas is a difficult place to visit. They are perched high above the river and seem much closer to the sun. There are very few Spanish speakers and being armed with little-to-no useful Miskito, my communication skills are limited to trying to get someone to understand my Spanish enough to translate it into Miskito. It is a humbling challenge to visit there.
 |
| Urbino and family |
 |
| 101 year-old Antonio visits when I travel to Pankawas. |
After I am tired of that game I walk towards the door opening. They run to a tree and make a line for a rousing game of “Make the Old Gringo Have a Heart Attack.” This is their chance to be swung in a circle by the arms. They know the rules – where the line is, how many revolutions, one turn each, etc. Yet, I have never said a word. To my knowledge, neither has any adult standing around commented on the rules of the game. It is late that night when I sway in my hammock that I reflect
a) It was a fun trip to Pankawas;
b) There was a lot of laughter;
c) Words aren't always needed;
d) I will need four adults to roll me out of my hammock and help me off the floor in the morning.
This latest trip to Pankawas was their first opportunity to have a movie. Using a generator, giant screen, DVD and projector we showed the Spanish version of a movie. They don’t speak Spanish. Yet they watched and laughed at the slapstick as it unfolded.
 |
| UA1 at the Pankawas Mall...well, not exactly. |
******
It's all good...I struggle with my usefulness and purpose, especially on the river. I am reminded that my job is to take pictures, smile and be available. I know I get far more out of these trips than I give and I have a very selfish prayer that God allows me to continue. The people on the Rio Coco live a meager existence. But it is meager by our standards, not theirs. There is much laughter and the slower pace is relaxing to say the least. Yes, they work hard, even the children. But they play hard, too. We Americans could learn a thing or two from them. Don't feel sorry for the people on the Rio Coco. That's not to say they don't need help with some things that we can provide, but they don't need a change of lifestyle. God is taking care of them in the way He sees fit. He does the same for us.
When I ride along in the canoe I listen to a very old song, "His Eye On the Sparrow" written by Civillia Martin in 1905 and based on Matthew 10:29, and think about how it fits the people on the river. Inevitably I end up relating it to how God has taken care of me and used the river trips to bless me. Please put in a good word to the Good Shepherd for the people on the Rio Coco…so I can keep learning.
Dahwan bliss mimumbia (God bless you).
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Fruit of the day: Coconut
We were walking through the market the other day when a local girl we often hang out with, saw a coconut and asked what it was. At first, I thought it was strange--there are coconuts all over the place! But then it occurred to me, that most folks around here are probably more used to seeing them whole, or already "dressed" completely. Which made me think--maybe coconut is exotic enough to deserve its own day.
 |
| a "whole" coconut from the market |
 |
| what I used to mean by coconut from the market
Now, I know all about how to use whole coconut in this form. Just smash it open, spend much longer than you anticipated picking all the meat out of the shell, probably followed by grating it up (along with most of your fingers) and then wondering why it doesn't feel or taste like the candy stuff from the bag.
 
But, see, that's not really a whole coconut at all--in fact when you buy that hard wooden shell, most of the coconut is already gone! Here is a WHOLE coconut. Fresh off the tree and carried down the Rio Coco river to my kitchen.
 |
I hear that knowing the source of your produce is all the rage in the US--and we definitely know the source of our coconuts, his name is Onedir. Check out this crazy video of him collecting coconuts for us "city folk" back in Jinotega.
Once you have the coconuts in hand, you're going to have to get that husk off. You can use a machete, a sharp knife, or even burn it off--the age of the coconut is a big factor. The older and dryer the husk, the easier it is to shred and pull apart by hand--but the more difficult to cut. The younger and greener husks chop off in chunks better, but you're going to need a cleaver or machete.
 |
| get a sharp knife and dig out a starting place |
 |
| slice and pull off the fibrous stringy husk--no extra arm workout needed today! |
 |
| I see the "nut". we're getting close! |
Now that you have dispatched the husk it's time to get into where the good stuff is hiding. Although, I suppose depending on your needs, the husk can be pretty good stuff too. I've heard it is a good medium for growing seedlings, I have seen it used as a floor scrubber, a fire starter, and have even been offered some nice dry shredded husks when on my way to the latrine. (yeah, I was grateful, but still took a "pass" in favor of some nicer stuff I packed in my pocket).
 |
| pretend those three dots are a face and poke a hole in the "mouth"--it's the softest |
 |
| let the coconut water drain out |
 |
| there's lots of juicy goodness in there!
Now comes the time to open it up. Some people will advise you toast the nut (this will make it break in a bunch of little pieces, but the meat is supposed to come off easier). You can machete it open in your hand, smash it with a rock, or tap right in the center with a hammer, and if it's fresh, you're likely to get two perfectly split halves.
  I think a thin flexible knife is about the best tool for removing the meat. You can just pry it loose from the wooden shell. If you want it perfectly white, you will need to shave off the thin brown coating on the meat, or you can just eat that. It's fine. If you aren't "processing" the coconut, smashing it into pieces that fit in your mouth is best. That way you can just chew the meat right off of the shell.   And that's one of the main things about coconut--you just eat it. I spent quite a bit of time trying to make my coconuts "turn out right"--trying to make shredded sweet flakes that, while delicious, have very little to do with what coconut is. In English we call it cocoNUT--I think that's meant to be a hint. It really does taste like a delicious, soft, meaty nut. (Yes, yes, I know it's a technically a drupe not a nut--but I'm talking flavor and function here). Yep, you can make candy, curry, smoothies, and soup from coconut--but I think the best thing is to just eat it. Yum.
The End
See, the thing is, there is just some other cool stuff you should
know about coconuts.
Such as:
A coconut tree produces year round, so there are always coconuts in multiple stages of development on a tree. A good tree can produce 10-15 coconuts per month--so they are truly a source of abundance. There are plenty of other methods of dispatching a coconut. Especially if you've had some serious practice. There are these guys in Managua who will sell you mature coconuts completely cleaned of husk and the wooden shell but the meat and the water inside are perfectly intact. Now, that is some serious machete talent. 
Coconuts are
useful and extremely different at different stages of development. Maybe
you've seen "young" or "green" coconut for sale in a
fancy-pantsy grocery store. The white part you are seeing is the fibrous
husk in its green state. Inside, the wooden shell hasn't yet formed. Young
coconuts are all about the coconut water. At this stage the coconut water
is sweeter than what comes from a mature coconut. There's often 3 or 4
cups of liquid inside! Between completely green and mature, the young
coconuts begin to form the coconut meat--and it is a soft jelly like
texture. Less flavorful than mature white coconut meat, but still a nice
treat. And on a hot day--nothing could possibily be better. Yum!
  |
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Fruit of the day: Pejibaye???
Jonathan is fresh back from another trip up the Rio Coco, and he returned with some fantastic gifts--including a weird fruit. The folks up there called it "supa" (pronounce it "soup-uh") We aren't really sure if that's a Miskito or Spanish name. Jonathan said that they grew on some type of palm tree. My best guess is that they are some wild version of the peach palm fruit. science-y stuff here
The fruits are small and hard with a very slick, thin skin. Jonathan shared that the experts did not eat the skin, so neither did I. They have one central pit, and a very dry, mealy, fibrous, almost woody flesh. The taste is incredibly mild--almost non existent. It has more aftertaste than actual taste. Not objectionable in any way--but also not sweet or familiar to any flavor I can recognize. A tiny bit like the nutty flavor of dry field corn perhaps? Jonathan said that he was served these fruit hot--he assumed they had been boiled, but that the flavor was relatively unchanged. He was surprised at how much he enjoyed them (but that could also just be a function of eating rice and beans for a week--or the delicious sauce of receiving the generous gift of people who have very little).
So an exciting new fruit! Supa. I am so amazed at how full the world is of "new" and interesting things waiting to be "discovered".
The fruits are small and hard with a very slick, thin skin. Jonathan shared that the experts did not eat the skin, so neither did I. They have one central pit, and a very dry, mealy, fibrous, almost woody flesh. The taste is incredibly mild--almost non existent. It has more aftertaste than actual taste. Not objectionable in any way--but also not sweet or familiar to any flavor I can recognize. A tiny bit like the nutty flavor of dry field corn perhaps? Jonathan said that he was served these fruit hot--he assumed they had been boiled, but that the flavor was relatively unchanged. He was surprised at how much he enjoyed them (but that could also just be a function of eating rice and beans for a week--or the delicious sauce of receiving the generous gift of people who have very little).
So an exciting new fruit! Supa. I am so amazed at how full the world is of "new" and interesting things waiting to be "discovered".
Thursday, October 10, 2013
September-ish Update
Hello all:
I can't believe it is October - for that matter it is almost mid-October and I am just getting this out. I thought things were to slow down when groups left? It seems as though we have been as busy as ever and that makes time fly by even faster.
"Coach" Jonathan L. Holland,
September allowed Sheila and I the opportunity to return to the Rio Coco. It is always such a mixed bag of blessings and we are always surprised at how they appear. We are never surprised by their source. We delivered school supplies, eyeglasses and medicine.
Armed with the knowledge of how to use OTC medicines, I was sent as the distributor. Our doctor gave me instructions and so, wielding a thermometer, otoscope, and stethoscope I packed for the Rio Coco to distribute acetaminophen, parasite pills and a mild antibiotic. At one point when I was in San Andres, the central city for the region and the only health center for many, many miles, a young man came to the clinic. This is where we were setting up for vision screening and eye glass fitting. We had been told that there were currently no doctors at the health center so the whole facility was at our disposal. This man had sliced the top of his foot open with a machete. He needed stitches. I had some in my emergency medical kit. Here we were in the village for just a few hours and I was being called "doctor" and expected to sew an open wound shut. (It is at this point where Sheila reminded me that I am in fact accident prone and had seen the procedure completed personally on dozens of occasions.) I got the man to a bench and got his foot elevated I went for the emergency medical bag. As a I rounded the corner I saw a man standing at the door of the health center personnel living quarters.
"Are you the doctor?" I asked. "Yes," he said, "but the clinic is closed and we are on vacation, unless there is an emergency." "Oh, there's an emergency," I assured him and took him to the patient. I ended up playing nurse instead of doctor, and got another good opportunity to witness stitching. Yeah, I could do that if I had to. I hope I don't have to! I wonder if the young man knows how lucky he was.
I took fewer pictures this time, but I think it was because I was so much busier. I'd much rather be the photographer than the doctor.
Sheila and I are planning a short trip home that will begin in mid-November and end in mid -December. We have become so accustomed to the lifestyle here that trips home seem very expensive, starting with airfare. We will use the time to visit family, as many friends as possible and tend to some contract work with a school form the Mount Pleasant, TX area.
Residency is progressing well and we expect to have all paperwork in the local attorney's hands with in a week. Once we have those papers finalized we will start making the contacts with the Ministry of Family to learn more about the adoption process. Please keep these things in your prayers as you continue to pray for all aspects of our work here.
Ikaia the cat is getting bigger and continues to be successful at her primary function. As she grows she has begins to do what cats do naturally so, after some research and talking to a local vet, we decided to give her a birth control shot that will last until early next year. Yes, now I am a veterinarian. With Sheila as my assistant, we administered the recommended dosage of depo-prevera to our pet. Remember that in the animal world I am 100% dog lover. Have you ever seen a mad kitten? She has been giving us the cold shoulder. "This is going to hurt you more than it is going to hurt me," I told her. I guess I was right. This morning when I picked her up to give her the once-over she just looked up at me, hissed, and hid behind the couch.
Finally, we are in the final stages of production on the 2014 calendar. The theme is "Children of the Rio Coco." It may be the first tri-lingual calender ever produced. Each page chooses a photo topic and includes a brief description. Additionally, there is a box with an associated phrase. The phrase is in English, Spanish and Miskito. We hope you will find this calendar not only visually pleasing, but hinging on educational. I know in a world where paper calendars are obsolete this may seem like a waste. We have chosen this as a way to share what we do. Besides, are you going to hang your electronic device on the wall? We are asking for donations of $18-20 to cover the cost of production. Any profits made will go directly to the work of Sigh For Sore Eyes. Did I mention they make excellent gifts? We need to complete the order process by 24 OCT 2013 to get them in your hands around Thanksgiving while we are stateside.
.
Checks can be sent to:
SFSE
PO Box 903
Georgetown, TX 78627
To order, please send your physical address and the number you wish to order to me at:
I cannot say often enough how grateful we are for your support, whether it is spiritual in the form of prayer, financial, or both. Thank you.
Grace, peace and Mercy...but mostly Mercy,
Executive Director, Sight For Sore Eyes Foundation, Inc.
Deputy Director, Mision Para Cristo, Jinotega, Nicaragua
Friday, September 27, 2013
There and back again--again.
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| "before" taken in our hotel in Wiwili before boarding the boats the next morning |
This journey was very different than my previous trip, primarily because of the make-up of the group. There were 11 of us in all, rather than the roughly 50 travelers from the time before. This trip, was made up of Jonathan, me, and our beloved Carl L., two young strong guys for translating and working in the eyeglass clinic, one dear sister to cook for us, and five preachers to conduct a bible institute. We brought with us our vision screening machine, glasses, some basic over-the-counter type medicines, school supplies for San Andres, some items the churches had requested, and "Feed my Starving Children" soup mix for the church leaders to distribute.
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| loading up the pair of boats |
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| we took much more than we brought back |
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| Oh Luis, you're so crazy! |
The Accommodations
Again, because the make-up of this team was so different, our living arrangements while on the river were different than the trip before. We all stayed together in the church building in San Andres, (and later in La Esperanza) which is also where we ate. With so many fewer gringos on this trip, the flavor of our time together in the evenings was also much different. It was a very playful, wacky, boisterous time of laughter (and snoring)--language not needed.
The church building has one small room and one large room with an oven in a corner. This room has walls up about 2/3 of the way to the ceiling. The building sits up on stilts at the top of the high bank of the river. There was an out-house near by, and Luis even took a sheet of plastic and hung it near a tree for a bath-house for those of us who weren't up to braving the muddy hike and traffic at the creek where the townspeople bathe. I learned that my hair needs exactly 3 coconut shells full of water to get completely wet.
I have to be the only gringo to go on this trip and gain weight. It is a running joke among repeat travelers, "Do you want rice and beans or beans and rice?" I don't know if it was the fresh country air, the wood stove flavor, or if I just really like rice--but I certainly enjoyed every serving.
I also really mastered the art of hammock sleeping this time around. And it takes some practice. Don't let those afternoons spent laying in a wood-pole-flattened hammock make you overconfident. Learning to juggle a sheet and mosquito net, shifting in the night to evenly distribute the waffle pattern in your fat, realizing that every movement will make you swing (and likely swing into the person sleeping near you, making them swing into the person near them)--it's definitely an art.
Of course, there is no electricity in this place--but since we had a generator to run the autorefractor, we also used it for power at night. The guys brought along wiring and electrical sockets--the same kind I have in my apartment at this very moment--and just draped them all around the church house. This made our place quite the happening gathering spot in the evenings.
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| the kitchen corner of the church house |
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| sister Maria Magdelena hard at work--see the river in the background? |
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| this is the sink. so ingenious! a slatted box that sticks out of the building to let the water drain away |
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| all tucked in and ready for sleep |
We spent the first two days in San Andres. Carl, Luis, Ricardo, Jonathan and I operated the eyeglass clinic from the health center, while Luis, Luis, Alberto, and Isidro conducted a bible institute for around 30 students. In the evenings we set up a movie screen and showed some cartoons "for the kids" and served prepared soup to every kid who brought a dish. Of course, the whole town came out. It's hard to describe the camaraderie and excitement of an entire town dragging over their one bench, and standing in the mud laughing and sharing something together.
Isidro soon left with Alberto to conduct a bible institute in a neighboring village, where he would stay and we would eventually meet up with him. On day 3, while the bible institute in San Andres continued, the vision team loaded up in a boat and headed for a village about an hour away called Pankawas.
As remote and primitive as things are in San Andres--it seems rich and urban compared with Pankawas. The level of poverty here was startling to me, even with eyes that have slowly grown accustomed to a different standard of living over the past year. Luis and Alberto met with community and church leaders. Carl, Luis and I did vision screenings, and Jonathan and Ricardo met with people to distribute some of the basic medications that had been sent with us. Jonathan listened to people's concerns, took notes and photographs of anything potentially serious to report to the doctors back "in town", and did simple things like take temperatures, give anti-parasite medications, and fever reducers. The kinds of care we can provide just by walking to our medicine cabinet are completely out of reach for this community.
Carl, Luis and I got a crash course in the Miskito language, and lots of practice honing our non-verbal communication skills. While many of the people we saw in San Andres spoke Miskito, there were many bilingual folks around willing to help. Here in Pankawas (and the following day in La Esperanza) we only found 2 or 3 Spanish speakers at all. This meant it was jump in and sink or swim! I think we did pretty "paen" (good).
It was a hot--really tropically hot--sweltery hot, hot day. And even the lack of walls on the church building did little to keep things cool. Some men from the town soon brought us green coconuts to drink--the most refreshing and generous gift I have had in a long time.
As afternoon came on so did the rains. Rain so hard kids were filling water bottles in minutes straight from the sky. We rode the boat back upstream to San Andres with the rain filling the canoe almost as fast as it could be bailed out. And it felt delicious! One thing I was reminded of on this trip--when things are unpleasant, just wait. Sometimes, the very thing you bemoan now, will be what you long for soon. In the cold driving rain, you long for sun. In the heat, you long for the refreshing rain. I spend so much of my time longing for something I often forget to appreciate what I have in front of me.
Our last full work day was in the very rainy village of La Esperanza where Isidro had been conducting a bible institute for several days. We packed up and said our good-byes in San Andres, boated about 2 hours upstream where we set up "house" in the church building and the eye clinic in the school.
There was good news and bad news in La Esperanza. The bad news? Jonathan was feeling pretty crummy and had to medicate himself and lay down. The good news? It is the first time I've had the experience of completely finishing every person who wanted to be seen with time to spare. It felt so great not to have to turn anybody away, or tell anybody we had run out of supplies. It also gave me some time to really sit and talk with people from the town. I especially cherished the time I got to spend with the teacher of the school here.
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| oh a parent's relief: "no, there's no fever" |
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| Carl teaching how to use eye drops in Pankawas |
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| Luis screening vision in San Andres |
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| fitting glasses with English-Spanish-Miskito translations in San Andres |
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| mm...that's some refreshing coconut water! |
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| back in San Andres after a hot, wet, day in Pankawas--about half-way through the trip |
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| Jonathan tries to recuperate in the La Esperanza church building--neat pews, huh? |
Yes, even better than the boat ride, is just being with the people here. Are there some odd ducks? Sure. Are there some people who are manipulative? Yep. Are some kids bratty and wild? Of course. But I have also been very few places where people were as open-hearted and real. It is delightful to see the genuine relationships that have been developed by the frequent travelers (like Jonathan, Alberto, & Luis) and the community members here. The relationships developed here go beyond "the guys who brought us pencils or soup". I see people who have been so ignored by their government, and let down by big promises, who are grateful to be respected, grateful to have their names remembered and their concerns truly heard. This is a people who, for good or bad, are very genuine. Maybe it comes from living 10 feet away from your neighbors with no windows or doors between you. Maybe it comes from spending generations with the same groups of families. But there is little that is secret--and so there is little reason to dissemble. There is so much I have to learn from people who live so intimately in community. There is so much I have to learn from people who have learned to bear and accept what comes. There is so mush I have to learn about being generous, not just with material things--but with your spirit.
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| a little rain never stops the fun |
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| La Esperanza--amazed by the movie |
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| celebrating having 80+ years and still tough and strong |
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| yes, we are duct tape buddies. anything new can be big fun |
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| how can you not smile back? |
Even with a two hour head start by staying in La Esperanza, the boat ride back to Wiwili was still about 11 hours due to the high water. We zig-zagged the river trying to stay out of the current, hugging the banks and dodging low hanging branches--which made the ride home feel so different than the ride up. The rain held off until we landed--but unfortunately not until we had unloaded the boats. A very rain-y four hour drive back to Jinotega and we were back in the land of light switches and showers.
Once home, our count showed that we screened 236 adults in the 3 towns, and over 40 students were served in the Bible institutes. But perhaps most of all, it was a week of mutual encouragement. Two deeply different communities sharing together, learning from each other and building each other up.
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| "after" the faces of people who know they are mere feet away from a shower |
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