Rich? Me??

I have never in my life referred to my family as rich. Sure we always lived comfortably in our happy little suburban world just outside of the metropolitan area of New York City, but I have never considered us to be economically rich. I remember always hearing “so-and-so can go on that trip because his/her parents can afford it...” And I remember being constantly reminded that “money doesn't grow on trees” and that it's important to save up because “you never know what will happen in the future.” Rich to me, were the people who bought brand new clothes or name brand sneakers whenever they wanted, the people with big in-ground pools, the kids who went to Disney World every year, the kids who had their own TVs in their rooms and the newest video games. Rich meant the kids who were gifted cars for their 16^th birthdays and the kids who's parents paid for college and then sent them spending money every month.

I remember learning in one of my Sociology classes that in the “middle classes” in the States, those in the lower middle class tend to thankfully and humbly consider themselves well-off because they compare themselves to the lower class that they have just moved up out of. On the other hand, those in the middle to upper middle classes tended to consider themselves worse off than they are because they're constantly comparing themselves to those that have more than them. I remember thinking about that for a few days after my class, and I convinced myself that I had always considered myself blessed and that I didn't live comparing myself to those who had more than me, but I don't think I was being honest with myself there.

Upon coming here, to the second poorest country in the Western Hemisphere, one of the first things our Peace Corps trainers told us was to prepare ourselves for the widespread belief that all North Americans are rich. I remember being surprised by this and joking that if anyone every tried to rob me, they'd be sorely disappointed. I wasn't one of the “gringos” that was here to spend thousands of dollars passing through the touristy cities and staying in expensive hotels. I was a Peace Corps volunteer coming from what I considered to be a humble family back in New York. I had college loans to go home to, and a laughable savings account that was decades away from ever being ready to put a down payment on a house or anything remotely close to that.

Of course I knew I was walking into a developing country and that I'd be living with a “poor” family with way less than what I was used to, but I never considered this to be a sign of my “high class” in this world. I hadn't given this topic much direct thought until my best friend here said to me last week, “who would've ever thought that a poor Nica guy and a high class New York girl would be best friends?” I literally laughed. “High class?! I'm not high class!” But later on that night I got to thinking about it. It is obvious that my socio-economic status is way higher than almost everyone here in my little Nicaraguan town, but surely I'm not high class. Then I spent last night showing some of my students pictures from home – pictures from Thanksgiving and Christmas – and I started noticing the backdrops of all of them. There we were in my dining room with a china cabinet filled with crystal and china behind us, a giant dining room table filled with plates over-flowing with food, and a row of cars parked in the driveway out front. How can I show them these pictures and then claim to not be rich? Just the idea of personally owned vehicles signifies wealth. Let alone a two floor house, my own bedroom, and family of educated, employed individuals.

Complete extended families live together all their lives here. Guys my age share beds with their brothers and babies sleep with their parents. Many times, one bicycle is shared by an entire household. Living room chairs – always a combination of wooden rocking chairs and plastic chairs – are moved to the table when there are guests to act as dining room chairs, and moved out to the yard as patio furniture when the heat inside becomes unbearable. “Bathrooms” are outdoor latrines and outdoor showers, and sometimes only outdoor areas to bathe with a bucket of well water. My department capital has paved streets and stores and cybers and bakeries etc., but outside of the 5x10 block center, it's all dirt roads out to the “barrios.” People out there have wells instead of running water and some don't even have electricity – in the department capital! People that have land and can afford to maintain it plant rice, beans, and corn so they can eat without having to worry about where the food will come from every month. Others make weekly trips into the market to buy their necessities from their favorite vendors. My friends buy their clothes in cheap stores that sell leftovers from Aeropastale and Hollister. Students in my poorer schools wear hand-me-downs or buy from used clothing stores when their parents can afford the trip into Rivas.

I can't even try to say I'm not rich after considering all of the above. There was never a time in my life when I lived without hot water, let alone without potable water. I've always had electricity, my own room, a sturdy, insulated house with more than enough space for my family and plenty of guests. Carpets and tiles, couches, a yard, a pool, my own clothes, a car, a college education. There was never a day in my life when I thought I might not have dinner, and I'm sure that no matter how hard times got, my parents were never so strapped for cash that feeding us became a worry.

I've tried to rationalize this in my head by reminding myself that things are completely different in the States. That we have taxes and insurance and other bills to pay. Food costs more, clothes cost more, travel costs more. A higher standard of living costs more...period. But there's no way around it. No matter how many bills we have to pay, we are rich beyond what most people here could imagine.

It really is devastating the effect that capitalism and greed can have on a society. There I was growing up in a big house in a clean, safe neighborhood, with a washer and dryer, and a stove and fridge, and way more clothes and food than I needed; going on family vacations in the summers, watching cable or using the internet right in my living room, learning from educated teachers in a well-equipped school...and yet I complained about not having clothes from the “cool” stores, or about not having movie channels or about my parents not giving me spending money on the weekends. And it's not just back in the States where the media and commercialism pollute the minds of any and everyone they touch...here my friends and students fantasize about fancy basketball sneakers and they walk around comparing cell phones and looking for the nicest clothes they can afford. They live in poverty and are still inundated with commercials about the newest electronics and household appliances, and they live watching movies and soap operas from rich countries, talking about how “tuani/salvaje” (cool/awesome) it would be to live like that. It's sickening.

I think I need to take a moment to thank my parents and my family for raising me the way they did. I was always reminded that we had to work for our money and I was never allowed to think that I'm a “high class girl.” I was raised to be humble and to think about how I could use what I have to help others who might not be as lucky as me. Apparently this “humility” that I was raised with is something that my friends here can see in me. More than once people have commented that I'm humble like they are even though I come from a completely different, much richer life in another world. I guess that's because I've honestly never seen myself as rich. The fact of the matter is though, I am rich and there's not a single person in my life back home that shouldn't consider themselves to be so. We have so much in the States – just in terms of material things, let alone in terms of worldwide educational, professional and travel opportunities. When I told one of my students that there is poverty in the States too, he responded, “maybe, but not like here.” And it's true.

So thank you mom and dad for always reminding me that material things were not important, even though you managed to raise us with all the comforts we could've ever wanted. Omi and Grandma, I can still hear echoes of your reminders “you don't know how good you have it,” and “that trip to the Game Farm costs about 5 hours of work at minimum wage.” I always knew that I had it good, but I guess I didn't realize how good until I really started analyzing the situation. I'm so thankful for everything I've been blessed with, but especially for being raised to value family, friendship, and laughter more than anything else. It's obvious that those are the most important aspects of life no matter where you are in the world.

Also, I think this video is awesome...you should definitely watch it and then share it.  Fight the Materials Economy!! We don't need all that STUFF! Let's do what we can to protect rather than exploit our resources, and let's think about what we really value in our own lives.  Don't let the media control your mind!

Watch this vid - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gLBE5QAYXp8

ONE YEAR IN NICARAGUA!!

So here I am, exactly one year from when I left New York to embark on this unbelievable journey of Peace Corps service, and I hate how cliché this is, but I honestly can't believe it's been a year. At times it feels like it's been ages, yet other days I feel like it was yesterday that I was frantically packing and obsessing over “the unknown” that I was about to face. (I guess I just continued with the theme of clichés there, huh?)

It's crazy because there are some days when I ache for home – for lazy days at home with my mom, five minute drives to Tante's and Omi's, summer days at Grandma's in Catskill, Zona's with my dad, holidays with the cousins, camping with the best extended family around, Olive Garden with my girls, Dunkin with the best, movie nights with the crew, college reunions, memories of crisp fall mornings, the perfect warmth that sweat pants provide on wintery evenings – and yet there are some things from home that now seem so foreign to me. Blow driers for example hahaha. Old norms have been replaced by new ones and little pieces of my daily life here have come to make this “home.”

Waking up to the sounds of Nicaragua has become so comforting. From my bed at 5:30, long after the roosters have started cock-a-doodle-dooing, I can hear my front neighbor sweeping her part of the street, while my next door neighbor fills her water buckets and washes some clothes before getting ready for work. Since my walls don't touch my roof, it's as if there were no walls at all; I can hear every rhythmic stroke of her clothes against the cement washboard and I can even recognize the songs she hums to herself as she works. I lay in bed listening to the men go by on their ox-drawn carts, headed out to the campo for a long day's work, and I wait until I hear the first round of tortillas pass by my house. As I hear her coming down the block yelling rhythmically and evenly, “tortillas!!,” I untuck my mosquito net, slide on my flip flops, shuffle to the bag where I keep my toilet paper, and head out to the latrine. On the way back in, I fill my pot at the spigot out back with water to boil for oatmeal (or if it's a morning when I don't have to work early, I wait for Dona Lidia to pass by with fresh milk from her cows so I can make cafe con leche or creamy oatmeal instead.) Then it turns into a morning like everyone else's – shower, dress, prep for work. Of course my showers start with 5 seconds of agony because even though I'm used to cold showers my now, those first 5 seconds (or that first bowl full on bucket-shower days) are always killer.

Walking to work, I chatter quickly with my neighbors about the heat or the rain or the shame that it's only Tuesday – some things just don't change no matter where you are in the world. I don't even notice now how many horses, cows, pigs, and chickens I walk past before I get to work. I show up to school already glistening with sweat, but so does everyone else, so it's nothing to worry about. I teach my science lesson and we play games to reinforce what was learned. I almost forget that things like projectors and worksheets and school nurses exist in this world – let alone classroom TVs, classroom telephones, and Smartboards. After classes, we head out to the garden and my students go attack the weeds with their machetes. Was there a time when I had never seen a machete used to mow the lawn? I know there was because I remember the first time I saw it here and how amazed I was by it...now it's just normal.

So many things that once surprised me or captured my attention have all just become part of the day-to-day.

Not counting any time spent in the capital city of Managua, I can't remember the last time I saw a two story building here. Houses are rectangles made of wood, or bricks, or cinder blocks, or in less fortunate cases black plastic or zinc scraps. They have roofs made of zinc or rounded shingles, and more times than not, they have dirt floors.

I almost forgot that there are such things as basements and garages.

Air conditioning and heat are both non-existent in my daily life, which explains the nasty cough I got after all the air conditioned hotels we stayed in when my family was here. (AMAZINGGG times with my Lendles by the way. Everyone here – especially me – is hoping you'll decide to come back!)

Travel equals public transportation, which means what would be a 40 minute car ride turns into a 2 hour trip with at least two transfers, climbing into the back of packed school buses, awesome bus food from the vendors that get on and off at the big stops, and at least one sermon from a bus preacher.

When it rains, it pours. Streets turn to rivers in seconds, and life stands still for just a little while. <3

Just thinking about the things I've done without all year makes me realize how extravagantly we live in the States. Here, my “kitchen” consists of a two-burner gas camping stove (lent to me) that sits on a table. On that same table I have my sugar, rice, beans, oil, salt, eggs, and fruit and veggie bowls. Hanging on nails on my wall, I have my pots and pans (gifted to me), cat food, and a hand towel. On an old chair, in a big plastic tub I have my plates, cups, and silverware. That's literally it; and it's actually enough! Old memories of refrigerators, cabinets, ovens, indoor sinks, and dishwashers never even cross my mind. Well then again...it would be amazing to have a refrigerator.

My living room consists of a plastic table (lent to me), two plastic chairs, two little rocking chairs (lent to me), and a hammock. Couches? Carpets? What are those? Most people here do live with TVs, so I can go watch one whenever I want, but I honestly don't miss having one at all.

It's gonna be rough for me to go back home and reacquaint myself with all the "stuff."  I've come to love the simplicity I live with here, and I know that no matter where my life takes me after this, I'll never forget the lessons I've learned from the people that have become my dear friends and family here.  Aside from the differences in material possessions and the language, people here are exactly the same as people back home.  There are class clowns, jocks, nerds, town gossips, town crazies, neighbors willing to lend a hand at the drop of a dime, awesome teachers, crappy teachers...I could go on and on.  I've honestly found so many people here that remind me of someone back home.  The similarities in personalities of my friends here and my friends from home are uncanny.  Living worlds apart doesn't change a thing.  People are people and the relationships we build are what make our lives worth living.  All I can say is that I couldn't be more thankful for the amazing people that have welcomed me into their lives here.  I've found true friendship in a country that I had never set foot in a year ago, and that alone has made my service here worthwhile.  

Just about half-way through my service and I couldn't be happier to be where I am.  Thanks again for all the love and support from home.  I could never have gotten this far without you!! <3