Costa Jill

Oxen carrying firewood

Up with the dawn – as usual – Bob and I walk the waking streets of Dario. See it cool and quaint. Men with oxen make their rounds delivering lena (stove wood) gleaned from all nearby bushes and trees, for the breakfast fires. No wonder there’s a sparse treeless environment surrounding every village. Women with children carry straw baskets on their heads filled with the day’s wares; fruits and vegetables, fresh baked bread and rozquitos (flour cakes filled with cane syrup), pork and chicken; looking for the perfect location to set up for the day.

The small colonial houses are set close together on the decorative cobblestone streets, like almost all the streets we travel that are not dirt or newly paved asphalt. As the doors open to the morning we get a voyeur’s glimpse of life inside: beautiful antique tile floors, sparse stucco walls with an occasional painting of an old sailing ship or decorated ancestor, a pharmacy selling everything from hula hoops and junk food to drugs and bottled water.

The heat of the day is not upon us yet. Give it a couple more hours. It’s the dry season or verano, a good time to be checking water levels and functioning of the wells put in by El Porvenir. We meet up the our El Porvenir crew at the favorite local restaurant down the street from our hostel Seeds of Learning. Elaine gives me ‘a lick and a promise’ on the alien aspects of PC’s and Excel. Both totally frustrated, we hope it’ll all work out in the end, when we must post our data.

We switch vehicles. Elaine, John, two larger members of El Porvenir, and the luggage are crammed into a tiny Suzuki and off to Wiwili in the far mountainous reaches of the country bordering Honduras. Elvis drives our truck, Jimmy shotgun, Bob and I on the benches in the tarp-covered back with the gear. “Three hours to El Sauce with a stop in between to do our first surveys. I’m ready,” I’m psyched.

“Yea. And we’re lucky. It’s cloudy and breezy,” smiles Bob. We’ve checked the weather of our destination on line and it’s one of the hottest driest areas of Nicaragua. We leave the paved road to the isolated communities of Caracol and Monte Grande. Jimmy and I do the household surveys in the former, while Bob and Elvis check the water systems in the latter. Slow going until we get our ‘sea legs’. The process goes like this: An El Porvenir staff member introduces us and asks if they will answer some questions about the functioning of their water systems and/or latrines. They all agree and have no problem letting us check them, take GPS readings and photos. Though the families are poor with few amenities, they seem content. Most have animals and small gardens surrounding their neat simple handmade brick or wood homes. I thoroughly enjoy getting to know them and seeing how they live. It’s like subsistence farming communities of years ago.

We finish by late afternoon, still under a rare cloudy sky, and head for our final destination of El Sauce. The sky darkens. Thunder rumbles. Sheets of rain slash through the slits in the tarp. We’re soaked, and it doesn’t stop until we pull into town. Jimmy can’t believe it. “This is the dry season. It never rains this time of year.”

“Guess we’re just lucky.” I sigh, exhausted, again. We arrive at the only hotel in town, get dry and fall into bed.

Hotel Las Mercedes

Immediately upon arriving three hours late in the capital city of Managua, Bob and I get tremors of third world country glitches. The chip installed in my phone doesn’t work, but it’s a nice relief. The representative of our hotel tells us we have no reservations, but we check in anyway. We don’t actually meet up with anyone until the next morning. Everybody’s late. After breakfast Bob and I meet and greet the other two World Water Corps, Water for People volunteers. Elaine, our team leader from Denver, is an EPA employee who lives close to the home office. John is pipe fitter from Wisconsin Rapids, WI. His Midwest accent brings back sentimental memories of my Milwaukee heritage.

Dario, Nicaragua

Public Admin. Dario

We’re off to our training session with El Porvenir (the future) in the quaint colonial town of Dario, named for the famous Nicaraguan poet Ruben Dario. The group has been working hand-in-hand with WFP in Nicaragua for the last two years, though they have been in existence for more than twenty, bringing water and sanitation to isolated people in the rural campo. We split up, half in the El Porvenir tarp-covered truck and half (Bob and I included) in the tiny air-conditioned car. The meeting gives us an introduction to both groups and their on-going and future projects and our modus operandi, monitoring the water and sanitation systems already in place.

Our day drags on, as Latin American meetings do. Our American counterpart, Elaine has lots to present. She has been trained by the Water for People staff and told to pay great attention to detail since this is the first monitoring survey since WFP joined with El Porvenir. Future donations depend on it. Everything must be translated into Spanish or English and that doubles the time. After numerous breaks for meals, GPS training, computer problems, etc. we are in session for 12 hours! I’m exhausted. Our expert translator, Jimmy begins to lose his voice by the end of the day (rather night). Is this any indication of how long our surveys will last?

Training-Fermin, Cesar, Jimmy, Elaine

Elaine asks if she can train me on the PC and Excel before we retire for the night. I had planned to bring my Mac computer, but at the last minute find out the GPS stuff can’t be downloaded to Mac, and being a writer, not an accountant, I’ve never experienced the wonders of Excel. I’m so tired my eyes are crossing, and ask for a good night’s rest. “Can’t we do this in the morning?”

“Well, you know that John and I are going to Wiwili and it’s a seven hour drive. I’d rather do it tonight.”

“I’m an old morning person and my brain is mush. How about 6 or 7 am? So you can still make it to Wiwili before dark.”

But she’s a night person and only in her 30’s. “I can’t make it that early.” She frowns, “how about 8 am?” Agreed.

Seeds of Learning

We’re hauled in the back of the truck, like cattle to market, to our hostel for the night, a quaint humble place with a big surprise inside. Named Seeds of Learning, its main raison d’etre is as a children’s library and learning center. Started twenty plus years ago by an old gringo and his Nica wife, it even includes a sewing room with machines to teach the women a viable craft.

We all double up in the rooms and fall exhausted into our dreams of what tomorrow will bring.

Just a note before introducing my next volunteer experience in Nicaragua with the same group I went to Africa with – Water for People.

Edge of our road

While waiting at the airport for the flight to Managua I reminisce on these last few weeks of my busy, fulfilling, sometimes scary, never boring return to Costa Rica, before I leave on the next volunteer adventure. The heat has been overwhelming. Hottest dry season on record, but it hasn’t been dry. This should prepare me for the 100 degree weather we’ll be experiencing in the northern desert areas of Nicaragua, Our road is in the process of reconstruction (always done during dry season), but because it’s been raining almost every other day, the road has become a death trap and I get caught in its web. It reminds me of the ‘olden days’ 15 years ago when we were building our house in such a primitive area there were no electricity, paved roads and few cars.

I’m at the beach with the family looking out at the horizon watching heavy black rain clouds build. My stomach muscles tighten. Better get home before the rain starts, otherwise we won’t make it up the hill. Two minutes of heavy rain on the already graded yet still ungraveled clay road and it becomes a slushy slidy mess. We throw stuff into the two cars and gather up the kids, but it’s taking too long. The cloud gathers black quickly and heads our way. I’m in the lead as the giant droplets splatter the windshield. I turn onto the steep road, engage four wheel drive and gun it. The tires begin gathering mud the steeper the grade, but I’m still moving forward. The tires start spinning as my forward motion slows. I gear down. The car starts slurring sideways, slows, stops, reverses direction. No brakes. With no time to panic I gracefully slide backwards, picking up speed (too bad it’s in reverse). I look into the rearview mirror in time to see the side of the mountain hurtling towards me. Crash! My heart thuds in my chest. “Oh my God!” I sit totally stunned. I could have been dead! One little turn of my wheels and I would have gone off the cliff on the other side of the road.

I climb out into sucking mud to survey the damage and see the family’s car rounding the bend. Thank God they’ve seen me and stopped. The whole  back end is contracted like an accordion, but I’m still in shock and feel okay so far. We’ll have to check for the rest of the damage later. They pile out of their car gather the things they need and meet me to start the squishy trek up  to the house. Nicole and I take off our shoes which have become heavy with clotted mud and each grab a bag. Baby Luka’s on daddy’s back. Eight-year-old Sebas’s having the time of his life sliding into the ditches, jumping into puddles, covering himself in red clay.  He’s delighted, “This is the most fun I’ve had all week.”For every two steps up we slide back one. After an excruciatingly slow slog up the hill we arrive safely home exhausted and covered in mud.

In the morning, after the sun has had a couple of hours to dry things out, Jose and Nicole go down to retrieve the cars and return with both. Though mine is squished enough to make the back doors inoperable it still runs. Life is pretty stressful as I try to get ready for my Nicaragua trip. The next week it rains almost every night. This stops the road crew from putting rock down and me from getting home,  Luckily I can stay at Bob’s who’s only a mountain away. With his help we put the squished car into the body shop to be repaired while I’m gone. This morning Bob’s caretaker drives us to the airport and here we sit waiting for our delayed plane to Managua.

Over Costa Rica to Nicaragua

Here it comes. Bob and I are off to our next adventure. Tune in.