Thoughts on Pueblo Viejo

On the third night, Fabio had told us that the school teachers husband had committed suicide three weeks earlier. His daughter still asks where he is. Her, with her shy smile, and her mother with a calmness that remains incomprehensible. As I lay in my tent that morning, all the events of the past days came into focus. The elation and excitement of being somewhere so beautifully raw and vibrant clashed with the poverty we were surrounded by. The feeling was so real. I went outside and sat down. To my right the sun was rising over a small hill and to the left the mist was starting to clear from the mountain peaks that the village of Pueblo Viejo sits at. And it's not like I haven't felt this feeling before. But it has been a long time since something has felt that real, that close. Inside my sheltered life everything is safe because the dangers outside don't always appear real. What came into focus was the stark realities the children and their families were dealing with every day. Things like what happened to the school teachers husband were one of many things we learned that shook us to our cores. And it's not like things like this don't happen back home. It saddens me that this wasn't something I was able to respect more fully earlier. It is a valuable takeaway.

But when I think about that girl and her mother now, I am remembering that she didn't know the Disney princess on her shirt was Jasmine before we told her. I remember her smile after learning that. And I remember her mother's smile that would start from the corner of her mouth. I remember that on the last day with the schoolchildren, all it took from her was a smile and a nod to convey what we already knew was true. And that was the love in the room was real. When I remember my time in Pueblo Viejo I will remember that. I will remember waking up in morning and seeing the sun rise. I will remember the walk to Rosa's house and little Isaac racing around the room. I will remember Crystel, Deborah and Angela's friendship with us. The games we played, the songs we sang, the amazing food their mothers would cook for us. I will remember building the classroom. The feeling of a shower after. The way the school rooms looked and the English classes we taught. I will remember Crystel and Deborah asking me if I believed in God. I will remember the hours and hours we spent on the field, chasing a soccer ball or running bases. I will remember my friends. Bailey identifying birds and her inexplicable dislike of brie. Vic putting her backpack on and falling backwards. Nick and Arope for their strength and humour. Sitting with Jelena and Kate and watching the sun set. Breanna who might actually be the littest person I have ever met. Fabio, our NGO director, our guide, mentor and probably one of the most interesting men in the world- his "business" ideas and handstand ability notwithstanding. I will remember his kindness and how over the course of the trip he found so many ways to constructively challenge our assumptions. Show us and tell us things that attacked illusion.

Like on the the last day of classes. Breanna and I taught a drama class. At one point, we had the children make their own skits. The scenes were all based on things they saw in the village. We saw men beat their wives. We saw bosses stealing from their workers. Fabio asked the children if these things were sad. The children all laughed and said no.

They are all brave like that. Roybell and Yesling are three years old. They walk two hours to school every day. They hold hands because they are boyfriend and girlfriend. Miggy (Guillermo) is one of the "class clowns". You can find him in the back of the room with Calby, a mischievous grin on his face, probably blowing kisses to Cameron. His mother has broken all four of his limbs and his father is an alcoholic. Miggy sold the baseball Nick gave him. We understood why. Milagrove translating for the other children. Her sweet smile and bright eyes. Those whose names I never learned. Shy smiles on their faces. Those older boys and girls. Eli, who at 13 years old, outworked every single one of us on the job site. His arms were thin. I will remember the rest of our group: Joanie and Sarah who are like sisters. I will remember how every time I looked at Gab she would have a smile on her face. I will remember Kaity's calmness. And I will remember our group leader Tessa who did a perfect job of leading us through our adventure. I will not soon forget all the jokes and laughs that we all shared ("Dude, I think we're cows...").

What I will remember is how these children from dawn till dusk ran around playing with us and each other. They would get their lunch from the schools "kitchen". Some of them wouldn't eat until the same time the next day. Señor Nacho would walk past, salute me and say "Hola Señor Taco" before disappearing around the corner, another boy hot on his heels in a game of tag. Their bravery made us strong. Their excitement was visceral. Superficiality didn't seem to exist in Pueblo Viejo. Every man, woman, girl, boy, dog (but not piglet) showed us a side of humanity and compassion that came right from the heart... whether it was Imar who woke up at 4am, finished his chores, and then spent the day hiking up the mountain with us, or those who would offer us food and snacks when they already had so little to give. I will not soon forget the generosity and love of Pueblo Viejo or the beauty of Nicaragua. And I shall not soon forget little Brian. I won't forget meeting him on our first day and dancing with him in the school. I won't forget how he and his sister Mary Lou warmed to us. I won't forget how dirty his clothes were, how the rainstorm flooded his home on the hill, and how he spent the next week recovering from that night. Knowing that he spent that night shivering on the dirt floor is an image that is burned into my mind. Injustice is being four years old not knowing if your older siblings will be sold for a bag of rice next season. It's not having a bed to sleep on while government officials cut cable lines so that information from the outside world can't come into a community where 80+% of the population is unemployed. It's about a million and one things that these children go through every single day. But it's probably sunny in Pueblo Viejo right now. School just got out and I bet the kids are playing on the field. One of the boys will steal the soccer ball from Miggy and he will let out an impressive string of curses. The girls will be skipping rope. And I'm sure Brian will be there by his sisters side. Isaac will sit by Douglas and watch the spectacle in front of them. The pigs will hunker by, oblivious to all the activity. And the school teacher will stand there. And she will smile although I'm sure the pain in her heart will not have dulled. But I'm sure her daughter is close. And the princess on her shirt is Jasmine.