Jill Green – Page 11

Feel Good – Help A Local Costa Rican Family in Need

Farmer’s Market Rincon de Uvita, Costa Ballena, Costa Rica open Saturdays 8am – 1pm

p10101882-206x300-8854353 My productivity as a writer is increasing, and when the writing helps those in need, that’s even better. In his book The Geography of Bliss Eric Weiner travels the world looking for the happiest place and/or people who have the essential ingredients of a ‘good life’. A foreign correspondent for National Public Radio (NPR) he is typically expected to discover breaking news, which usually involves death and destruction. As he says, “It’s rewarding work, but can be a real bummer.” So he takes a break from the negative to “turn journalism on its head and seek out the world’s unheralded positives.” One of the major criteria for happiness that keeps turning up for Weiner is feeling good, and a big chunk of that is feeling good about helping others in need.

I read Weiner’s book after spending time working for nonprofits Water for People and El Porvenir in Nicaragua and chronicling the experience here. It gave me the impetus to talk of my experience on my NPR station WSLR in Sarasota, FL, and write a perspective piece in the national English language newspaper in Costa Rica and Nicaragua -The Tico/Nica Times.

Since the Geography of Bliss was printed Costa Rica has been voted the “Happiest” places in the world, according to Nicholas Kristoff in a recent NY Times article, but disasters still occur. I have just returned to my second home on the Costa Ballena, Costa Rica to the aftermath another horrible accident on the dangerous Costanera highway. Juan Carlos Guadmuz, the brother of my caretaker Edgar, was driving home to Hermosa from Cortez with his family and two local women when a car tried to pass three semis on a curve, causing the Guadamuz car to swerve into the oncoming truck with disastrous results. Of the seven people in the car four died – the two women from Uvita, and a Guadamuz son and grandson. Juan Carlos, his wife Maria and another son survived, but with serious injuries. They are trying to put their lives back together and are recuperating slowly, but neither husband nor wife is able to work yet, and the car was totaled.

Again, I am writing this in the hope that you will join me in feeling good about helping some good people in dire need – the Guadmuz family. They are some of our local hardworking and proud pioneers. In fact, Juan Carlos’ father’s life was recently chronicled in one of our monthly magazines – Ballena Tales.

p1010179-300x225-3600972 — Diana & Ian, Made FromScratch booth at Feria - Uvita

We will have a donation box for the next several weeks at the local farmer’s market, Feria – Rincon de Uvita at Diana’s ‘Made-from-Scratch’ booth. The Feria is open every Saturday from 8 am to 1 pm. The family would appreciate any money or non-perishable food items to help them get through the next couple of months.

Meandering Thoughts on Naomi Epel’s Writers Dreaming

swriters-4991190

My son Ray is my book finder. He has the most eclectic taste and is more widely read than anyone else I know. On my visit to see him and the family, one of the several books that make it into my suitcase is Writers Dreaming by Naomi Epel. While she was working as a literary escort and a dream facilitator she interviewed 26 writers on the importance of dreams in both their writing and their lives. As I pick up this slim ten-year-old volume I have no idea it will move me so profoundly.

Listed alphabetically, I start with Isabel Allende and am immediately hooked. I cut my teeth on The House of Spirits in my “magical realism” period. Right away she clarifies my nebulous views on dreams.

“It’s as if one has a storage room where you have information that you can’t reach when you’re awake…In that dreamy state, somehow you can reach in the darkness and find something like a treasure that is hidden in this storage room…a smell, color, sight, sound…from your awakened state…and it yours, a kind of collective memory.”

I’ve always had a vivid surreal dream life and I’ve written down the most significant, prophetic, weird ones – whatever word you want to use – because they begged to be remembered.

Then, several paragraphs later, in a few gorgeously succinct words, she clarifies my hazy concept of existence. “I think that we are all particles of some sort of universal spirit. If we can get over this idea of our little bodies, our little selfishness and greed, this idea that we are something individual, just forget about it and tune into the wonderful, peaceful idea that we are just part of something that is there and whole and is part of your grandson and part of the flowers and part of everything…that wholeness.”

Of course Allende, as a Latin American, was born to be magical, and I was born to be a scientific North American. I was taught to solve all problems using the scientific method. Ray tells me this same idea can be explained by the science of quantum physics and that makes me feel even better. I don’t have to believe in God, or anti-God. I believe in a Life Force, a spark of energy that begins somewhere and will continue on when my old dead bones or ashes return to the earth, air or water to help something else to grow in my place. Two “Aha” moments one after the other. Wow, am I enjoying this book!

My very pragmatic logical view of life, including the study and teaching of science has been made richer by an active and diverse dream life, but in the last few years those dreams have eluded me. Thinking that the age of short-term memory loss also includes losing that utterly important other reality – my dream life – I’ve just about given up hope of getting it back, even though my son has been telling me I could retrieve my lost dreams by concentrating on remembering them.

I don’t actually have any success until reading Writer’s Dreaming. Slowly, day by day, little bits of dreams snag in my memory upon awakening. I roll them around, savor their sweetness before arising – colors, feelings, sights, sounds. Lucidity returns. I can control some of them or at least recognize that they’re dreams if they become frightening. I return to writing the evocative ones down.

These writers are not only reconnecting me with my dreams, but providing me insight into the creative process. I’m breaking through my writer’s block. I pay closer attention to my favorites: Isabel Allende, Maya Angelou, Gloria Naylor, Stephen King, Maurice Sendak. But some of the most dog-eared pages come from those I haven’t read who are now on my list: Clive Barker, Leonard Michaels, Allan Gurganus.

Though ten years old, thank you Naomi Epel, for this gift of Writers Dreaming, Better late than never, and just in time to help me finish my own first book, Faultlines, a series of short stories about taking risks. According to Herman Melville, being a writer is akin to being a diver. There are dreadful risks when diving deep into the psyche, but if you don’t dive you discover nothing about yourself. May we dream on, read on and write on!

Discrimination – Then, Now and Forever?

What made the recent Herald Tribune article about the Sarasota High class of 1970’s 40^th reunion newsworthy, was the fact that it was the first time in all those years that the rift of racial conflict between the black and white alumni was finally mended. The article calls it “a benchmark of social progress,” and continues, “The reunions have been mostly segregated for the last four decades.”

This statement shocked me into a tumble of mixed emotions and old memories. The first was shame. Forty years this segregation has continued, though the schools were integrated in 1967? I graduated in 1961 from Venice High and lived without any real consciousness that my contemporary black students from Venice were bused to Booker High in Sarasota. As I look back at the conservative 50’s, I think of myself as one of the naive sheep following the herd over the cliff. It wasn’t the Age of Aquarius yet, but ‘times they were a changin’. Why has it taken so long?

The second was pride. In the 80’s, black students were still being bused out of their home districts. My deaf son was attending the re-opened magnet school – Booker High, which he loved. His junior year he chose to attend Riverview for two reasons: one, it had the only resource teacher for the deaf, and two, he wanted to experience a larger school population and choice of subjects, to see if he could compete with his hearing peers. He could and did, but not before going through reverse discrimination. He was the only white kid on the bus and deaf to boot. He fought back, on his own, on all fronts and stuck with it until, by the end of the school year, the riders respected each other’s challenges and became good friends.

Now in my 60’s, I’ve had the opportunity to travel, teach and volunteer in both the United States and around the world and I still see the horrible inequities of life surrounding us. I was lucky to have grown up in the United States and, being an eternal optimist, I still have hope for freedom and peace worldwide. But, baby, we’ve got a long way to go.

Managua, Nicaragua – The End – But Never The End

p3050233-300x225-4128483 — Staff and volunteers at El Porvenir office

We spent our last days back in Managua getting a tour of the main office of El Porvenir, meeting the dedicated staff, getting a taxi tour of the central market, and the highly guarded, decorated and chain-linked waterfront. We climbed the semi-active Volcan Masaya, and ended the experience being taken to dinner by Rob Bell, the director of the El Porvenir office.

p30302021-300x225-7585579 — Central Market Managua

p3040210-300x225-6585083 — On the Waterfront

Taking our last evening walk, we were urged to be in before dark, not to wear jewelry, cameras or purses, and to watch our backs. Graffiti covered every space, but only Sandanista graffiti. The major area of employment could be security guards from the numbers of men we saw in uniforms with big guns, behind chain-link fences. In front of the baseball stadium stood a huge statue of the Sandanista hero Gen. Augusto Sandino. Across the street was a retrospective of the Sandanista Party behind the ubiquitous chain-link fence. Since we were protected by the gun-carrying guard, I took out my camera to record this history and Bob. While he was flashing a few of me with poet Ruben Dario and Gen Augusto Sandino, a guard came up to him from behind, sticking two fingers into his neck. Bob, startled, turned, ready to fight. “What’re you doing?”

“You wanna keep your camera? And your life? Then put that away before you leave this exhibit.” (In Spanish)

“Por Supuesto!” Bob agreed quickly. “Muchisimas gracias!” we thanked him for the warning and safely returned to the hotel, watching our backs.

The Sandanista retrospective was an impressive mix of history, poetry, sculpture and graffiti recording a fight for freedom through the years. But what has happened? Crime is rampant. So many people in the country live without water and toilets. The socialist ideal of a “system in which the means of production and distribution are controlled by the people and operated according to equity and fairness” has deteriorated to the point of the second-time president Daniel Ortega, owning one of the largest hotels (The Seminole Hotel) and casinos in town. A socialist turned capitalist? That money certainly isn’t going to the people that need it most.

p3040225-300x225-7151212 — Graffiti in Managua

Well, life is never fair, but let’s keep fighting to make it so. To end on a positive note, thanks to Water for People; and the non-profit, El Porvenir, on it’s 20^th anniversary, should be tremendously honored for having completed 600 projects and helped over 70,000 people in Nicaragua. Both non-profits have pages on Facebook. Become a fan and get involved.

p3040232-300x225-1300809 — Dario, Jill, Sandino

Nicaragua – The Good, Bad and Ugly

p3020169-300x225-2735749 — Riding the roads in the back of the truck

A few statistics on Nicaragua:

· $1028 – Second lowest per capita income in the Americas

· 48% of population live below poverty line

· 30 – 40% of homes have a woman head of household

· President – Daniel Ortega – Sandanista Party – for the 2^nd time.

Two of our traveling companions, one from the U.S. and one from Nicaragua, are political history buffs. During our many hours of traveling to and from our survey sites we had plenty of time for lively, interesting, informative discussions on the history, culture and politics of Nicaragua; the latter being incendiary, difficult, multi-faceted, dangerous, murky. What’s the truth? I’m not sure. I can only give you my observations.

p3010116-300x225-9623331 — Fighting rooster atop ring-legal in Nicaragua

In the isolated countryside, life goes on as it has for 100’s of years. There’s no time for anything but surviving in the simplest manner. Lack of money, jobs and transportation keeps subsistence farming alive. The simple homes of either handmade clay bricks or gleaned wood are clean.

Our survey was to inspect the condition and use of the latrines (installed in the last two years) and the older water systems in the area surrounding El Sauce. If the results are good, the Water for People funding will continue. And they were.

· Almost all households were headed by women.

· All agreed to allow us to view the latrines and answer questions about use and cleanliness.

· All latrines were clean and most decorated.

· All the people we talked to were friendly, open and educated in water use.

· No households had indoor water or plumbing.

p3010071-300x225-2417365 — Public school-one teacher for 150 kids

The exception was in public institutions – both schools and health clinics. The older latrines, not installed by El Porvenir and WFP, were in bad condition, generally not functioning. There were few if any supplies or books. The buildings were rundown and in need of repair. When I asked about the sad conditions, I was told that education and health care were free, but the government “won’t put its money where its mouth is.” And “Since they’re “free”, the government won’t accept private funds when offered.” What?

p30201951-300x225-2139093 — Unusable school latrines

When we returned to Managua, the political center of the country, the contrast was extreme. Nothing like the bucolic countryside filled with simple hard-working people. That’s the next and last story from Nicaragua.

Living in the Past – El Sauce, Nicaragua

p3020168-300x225-5048282 — El Porvenir Staff, El Sauce

Jimmy stays with us at the only hotel in town, El Blanco, run by a Katherine Zeta Jones look-alike, with an added Latin American plumpness. Elvis lives in El Sauce and is finally able to go home. I decide to enter the data from the previous afternoon and give thanks that Jimmy is staying in the next room and comes to my call with help on the myriad extra steps one must take on the PC I’ve borrowed from his office.

p4020106-300x225-1213653 — Mercedes in her kitchen

We start the morning at the El Porvenir staff’s favorite restaurant, Mercedes’ Kitchen, and that’s all it really is. She opens her home and we enter the kitchen and look in all the pots to decide what we want. Of course there’s gallo pinto (a mix of yesterday’s red beans and rice) that is the mandatory filler for a hard day’s work, then eggs, fruit, tortillas, and meat. Coffee is drunk short, sweet and dark, not like in my adopted country of Costa Rica where it’s big and creamy with milk.

p4020114-300x225-2549994 — Water Source, Rope Well

Elvis handles the truck like a professional semi driver and takes us immediately off the paved road into billows of dust and heat. We split up on gender lines: the men and Bob survey most of the water sources, both springs and wells, the women and myself do most of the household surveys. In each small community the houses are clustered 6 – 12 together in the drought-ridden countryside for both family and economic support. They tend domestic animals, small gardens, children, hornos (outdoor bread baking ovens). We are always invited in to sit on the plastic chairs they stack in the corner and use only if a visitor arrives. A hammock is slung across the bare but cleanly swept dirt floor, and the prized, nod-to-technology TV winks from the corner. All washing and most of the cooking is done outside. And in every yard, usually decorated and always clean, is the recently installed vented latrine surrounded by grazing animals and a healthy garden.

p3010110-300x225-6639730 — Pastoral with Latrine

p2280055-300x225-2668513 — Horno - bread oven

How can I ask these humble strangers from a simpler time the most difficult questions on the survey? “May I see your latrine? Do all of you use it? When do you wash your hands? They may be simple but they’re not stupid. Find out next posting along with the other hard questions I must ask in this volatile Sandanista powered country – their politics.

The Survey Begins – Nicaragua

p2271305-300x225-8635113 — 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.

p2271307-300x225-8811436 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.

p2280027-225x300-7335513

“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.

p22800051-300x225-8473267

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.