Friday night was filled with birthday love and Jesus Love. My grandmother here turned 59 years old, relatively young really. This happened to coincide with her weekly cult meeting. That’s right I said cult meeting because that’s what they call it. Although the connotation with the word cult is generally not the same here, I associate it as if I would the word cult in the United States. They sing and chant and pray in the name of Jesus Christo! Well I was a little uncomfortable by the situation but not too much since most of my life here is uncomfortable so I am pretty used to it. It was fun and we ate delicious cake to end the festivities.
Praying season
Speaking of cake, look out! I had my meeting with the women’s group all day Saturday. They split up in to two groups in two rooms in different buildings across the street from each other. The first group was the reposteria group, or the group that makes deserts and baked goods. The second group makes artesenias. I walked back and forth at the beginning of their sessions which consisted of formal class work pertaining to starting and maintaining successful businesses. Needless to say I spent the majority of the day with the reposteria group so I could reap the rewards of their hard work. I received a piece of cake bigger than my head. I ate it all too! They were very nice and at the end of the “school year” in November, they will receive a diploma for the completion of the equivalent of 6th grade. Earlier I ran into Samuel the president of the Microfinance bank that sponsors this program. He told me that he talked to the board of directors and they gave me clearance to officially be able to give consultations to their clients. I thought that was pretty cool!
The ladies hard at work
At roughly 6am on Sunday morning I woke up, a little tired but relatively in good spirits for it being a Sunday morning and all. I refrained from going out that Saturday night so I could be in tip top shape for the upcoming softball games. I was taking it seriously, like I thought all my teammates were. I arrive at the designated meeting place, (a bar next to the bancentro) at 8:15 am, 15 minutes later than I should have. We waited and talked for not longer than 7 minutes before our catcher opens his bag to pull out Nicaragua’s finest clear rum. The team, minus me, proceeded to take a few pulls off the bottle, you know for the pain and what not. I kept hearing in background conversations that some big truck is going to pick us up. Sure, I can dig that, the field we were going to play at is a 20 Córdoba ride away, so I was stoked.
I was way more stoked however when to my pleasant surprise, an enormous cow transport truck pulled up. This is a big wood cage strapped on to a huge truck, not quite a semi, but its no pick up. There were only 2 available seats which meant only one thing. Hop on! Meanwhile we have been receiving non-stop rain since I woke up. While riding to the field, my 6 teammates and I on top of the truck are dodging cable lines, branches and banners, all while navigating blindly through the fierce pellets of rain. 10 minutes down the road we decide to slide through the wood slats to the cargo area, shit covered floors and all. Here the fellas continue their pain reducing medication treatment, doctor ordered of course.
This is one of those moments where I laugh inside and say, this is why I’m in the Peace Corps. Look at these F#c%ing guys I met and what we’re doing right now.
Absolutely hilarious!
We lost our first game in the last inning. We decided we all deserved a beer while waiting for our second game; so that’s exactly what we did. The second game went to extra innings where we decisively blew it for the second straight time. After the game I was recruited to play for a team that was advancing to the playoffs. Due to my swollen quad, my gimp foot, and my useless shoulder, I am going to have to pass and wait for summer league.
The ride chronicles continue as we fit 12 people standing in the back of a pickup truck on the way home. Again I had a huge smile on my face in the midst of my uncomfortable riding position.
Alabama won. Way to lose the Ohio St.
Tomorrow I will take a Panga to one of two aptly named ports in Bluefield’s: port Bloodington or port Garbage pile. Bloodington is named after the murder that took place while we were there a few months ago, and the other one shouts Garbage Pile when you get off your Panga, both the people and the actual trash. We have a security conference there, go figure, in the most dangerous place.
Here are five fun facts of the day!
1) In el Rama there are sword fights! I don’t know how many there are a year but with the amount of drunk people walking around with machetes it’s a guarantee that they occur!
2) No matter how full any form of transportation is here, there is always “room for three more.”
3) The quickest and cheapest way to get high in Nicaragua is to follow the smoke! I mean to say that every one burns their trash and plastic so you have that option or you can follow the fumigation guys that walk around and bombard your house with potent chemicals to kill bugs that will undoubtedly return before 24 hours has passed.
4) The gringo will never know how to cook. My friends and I have realized that if we cook and don’t soak whatever it is we are cooking in oil, we must not know what the hell we are doing.
5) I spell better in Spanish than many people here! This is outrageous considering I don’t even speak the language well nor can I remotely spell words in my mother tongue properly.
Adios!
