First Day of School

While the kids were at school -
There are no start of school signals here because the light seems always the same to us. It feels odd to get school supplies without that change in light and the chilly nights on Orcas. I am so nervous and so sad for the children. Jules sick. Noah sad. I feel like it is the end of their childhood. In uniforms for the first time. Hope all is well. I wish they would call me on my phone. Angel was here half an hour early and Hobbes was ready when we picked him up.

Kids came home and had that look of relief when you have gotten through something you dreaded and it wasn't that bad. They were in good spirits. Managed to find their lockers, well, Noah anyway and all their classes. Noah has 7 kids in band and none of them own their own instruments. He is the best in the whole band. Last year he was third to last chair in the clarinets in a band of 88, winning national awards.

Jules has 3 AP classes and the homework is already piling on. He mentioned again he knew a really good school in Seattle he could go to.

Second Thoughts

Now I am starting to have second thoughts about the whole kids in pool thing. Sylvia pointed out to me that our pool is pretty deep and could be dangerous for children especially if there are a lot of them. Then Riccardo mentioned that some families might see it as an opportunity to sue us if their kid got even a little bit hurt.

Later that night, it was Saturday, I saw Natalie running around Calzada around nine o'clock with a group of kids, mostly boys. Lots of kids hang out in the street here, but nine o'clock on the main tourist drag made me wonder if perhaps Natalie was running with a rougher crowd than I am comfortable having in my home. And I saw Dayton and he was looking a little dazed. Could it be glue?

I've been working a lot and Natalie has school in the afternoon when I am more likely to be available, so we haven't been able to come up with a mutually agreeable time. She came by this morning with a bunch of boys I hadn't seen before and I told her that we had to talk about the swimming. I told her it was too dangerous and if she wanted to swim, she needed to bring her mom with her so we could talk about it. She asked if she could bring a really big cousin instead.

So then Araceli and her mom, Diana showed up. She seemed to be about 22 and quite pretty. She had a big basket of tortillas. I said some really stupid things like, the tortillas I've been eating are delicious, did you make them. She smiled and nodded. Then I explained that the girls had been swimming at my house, which she seemed to know nothing about. She said they aren't sisters. Oh, so the grandma that said it was okay to swim wasn't her grandma. I explained the new rule - mutually agreeable time with adult present. Do you understand? A little, she says. OK some time next week. I bought 8 tortillas from here, gave them a glass of water. We'll see you next week. By the way, Natalie and Araceli have the same father. So they are sisters! No not really, she said. I thought they were just "irish twins."

Little bit later, Natalie comes by with her basket. So sorry, I say, I just bought them from Araceli and her mom. Tomorrow. But thanks for telling all the kids to bring their parents!

Swim Party

Natalie and her brother and sister, Araceli and Dayton showed up at 8:30 anxious to swim. So they were an hour and a half early, but who could imagine that I would have anything better to do than supervise swimming. Mind you these three children showed up at a (foreign) strangers house unaccompanied by a grown-up. I asked them if they were planning on swimming in what they were wearing and they said yes so I sent them in to take a shower before getting in. It's a new rule at my pool. We just changed the filter. Jorge and Fabiola who were supposed to come at 8:30 to do some English and Computer rolled in around 9:00 and were glad to have more playmates. The tortilla kids were fearless in the water and very close to mastering swimming. There was general merriment and hilarity as they jumped and splashed and chased each other around the pool. Some of the flowers might die, but I'm pretty sure everyone had a good time.

I was a little overwhelmed watching 5 kids, so I made them get out after an hour or so. I made everyone hot chocolate and passed out oreos. Araceli wanted some to take home to her mom, and Natalie wanted some for her grandma (the tortilla maker). I gave them the rest of the bag and they went on their way.

They just stopped by with the tortillas and Natalie wants to swim, now, tomorrow if not then, Sunday. I said, sometime next week when I get my energy back!

Pig Plans

Sylvia, Lucia and Eugenia have been trying to come up with an idea for a micro business that would help support their family. They are all underemployed and pretty much living hand to mouth and anything would help. We have agreed to an initial investment in their business if they give us a decent business plan that shows a chance of making money. We rejected the cigar idea because we don’t see a huge market in Nicaraguan cigars and there is already a lot competition.

Lucia has been raising pigs for several years (while studying to be a lawyer) and she thinks she understands the market for processed pig parts on a small scale and has good connections to sell her products. She did all the research and we sat down and put her numbers into a spread sheet; it looks like it might work. I learned a lot of really useful vocabulary. Who know there were so many different words for different parts of pig skin? She thinks she can provide a better product for less money in her neighborhood where there is little competition. She wants to slaughter 3 pigs a week, sell the pig parts and make nacatamales for sale from her house. Her nephews, Rudy and Jose will help with the work. She has to track down a few more items and then she will be ready to start. She invited me to watch them slaughter the pigs which will be done in the middle of the night. Fortunately, I had just learned how to say, “I faint when I see that.” I had to explain to her (again) that we don’t eat pork and we had a few laughs about Jews in the pig business. She promised to make some chicken nacatamales, too.

Disorientation Day at the New School

Yesterday we went to Orientation at the American Nicaraguan School. Angel was here to drive us very promptly, but we weren’t ready of course. The kids changed their clothes several times because Jonathan and I were each telling them to wear different things. It is a big cultural shift from an elite public school in Seattle to an elite private school in Managua.

We made it to school in 35 minutes which was a great relief, even though there will be more traffic earlier in the day. Maybe the kids will actually be able to sleep until 5:30. The school is surrounded by a giant green fence with guards patrolling the perimeter. There are security cameras and it is one guard's job to watch the televisions. We pass through a big gate with a guard. Angel parked the car and I told him we probably wouldn’t be done until 2:00. He said, don’t worry, whenever you’re done, I’ll be waiting.

We check in with the guard at the school entrance and he sends us toward the orientation room, but I only understand the first two turns. We get lost. I ask some young American teachers, but they don’t know where the orientation is. We find the room and Jules’ new high school counselor comes running over to meet me and discuss his classes. The kids go in and get settled. When I go in the room, I see that Thelma, the one parent I know at the American Nicaraguan School, isn’t there and I panic. Deep breathes and I join the kids. Conchita (Jules’ counselor) starts the welcome spiel with the ANS mission – multiculturalism, rigorous academics, world citizens, blah blah blah. Finally Thelma and Hobbes come in and I can relax a little.

Next, parents are separated from the children. I hate when they do this. Thelma and I schlump over to the library where there are about 100 chairs and 10 parents. Most of them are rather well put together. All of the presentations have been in English and when the parents start to introduce themselves, the First One who is Columbian starts in English so Thelma and I follow suit. Then the next parent speaks in Spanish a little apologetically and all eyes turn to me and I feel like I am the reason everyone has to speak in English. So I explain that I am perfectly capable of understanding Spanish, but nobody believes me because I sound so terrible. Most of the parents sort of simultaneously translate themselves and I feel very monolingual. Although I’m not. There are only few a questions and most of them concern the school uniforms so we are allowed to rejoin our children. Fortunately, we get first crack at the empanadas and coffee before the kids join us. We are supposed to mingle, but I just talk to Thelma about how unsocial our children are.

Next is the school tour. I send Jules with the high schoolers and I go with Noah with the 8th and 9th graders. One mom is saying, Carlito, stand up straight to an impeccably groomed 13 year old. Another mom has just moved back from Miami after 30 years. She is very friendly to me and very interested in the security measures of the school. The tour is in Spanish. Noah and I don’t ask many questions.

After the tour, Noah has to take the Spanish as a Second Language Placement test. I leave him in the library and go to find the head of the middle school to discuss his math placement. Happily, he will be allowed to take Geometry with the high school class because he has already done the curriculum for Eighth Grade Math. The Head of Middle School is a friendly fellow who studied Marine Biology at McGill and he is happy to make this exception. Profuse thanks and I go find Noah in the library.

Jules is there, too, facebooking. He is IMing with Sabina Bloom in Seattle. Noah is still taking his test. The Spanish teacher comes to do the oral part of the test and Noah won’t say a word in Spanish. I try to concentrate on my email.

Jules has heard through the rumor mill that there is an AP English assignment for over the summer. He is very bummed and even though the ever attentive Conchita has found a friendly Nicaraguan girl who is in the same boat to help him figure it out, he is getting more upset. We sit down to do his schedule and he finds out that there is an assignment for AP US History, too. He almost starts to cry and lets us all know that staying in Seattle would have been much better. Conchita wisely suggests pleading ignorance of the assignment and going to get lunch. She tells me exactly where to get the school uniforms and we try to find our way out.

We walk out of the school entrance and I search for my cell phone to call Angel, but before I can take it out, he is meeting us and opening my door. I ask him to take us to the Metro Center shopping mall. He drops us off and I give him some money for lunch and tell him I will call him when we are done. We head straight to the food court. The kids get 2 pieces of Pizza Hut pizza each and I have French fries. We find TricotTextil and buy 6 gray polo shirts with the ANS school insignia and one really awful pair of polyester Kelly green gym shorts. The crotch hangs halfway down Noah’s leg, but it is better than exposed thighs. Jules doesn’t have to do gym. We are done and even though I really want to look for a few things in the shopping center that I can’t get in Granada, I take pity on the kids and head out the door. Angel materializes in front of us when we walk out.

Long ride home and I feel terrible about making the kids make this trip twice a day. I feel guilty about making them move to Nicaragua. I feel so happy it is them and not me that has to read a book, write a report, get up at 5:30 to go to a new school in a foreign country a month before their summer vacation is supposed to be over. I feel like a bad mom.

Too many tortillas

Natalie is in second grade and she attends school in the mornings and sells tortillas in the afternoon. I asked her how her reading was and she said so/so. Everyday at supper time and sometimes lunch time, too, she brings tortillas to my house. I always buy ten and give her an extra cordova for herself. She used to pass the tortillas through the gate, but now she comes in and gazes longingly at the pool. Yesterday she brought her older cousin and I told her she had to get her mom or grandma’s permission to swim in the pool. Today she brought her little sister and bigger brother, Araceli and Dayton. They were coming into my house as a neighbor shouted for tortillas and she yelled back – Later, I’ll bring them on my way home!
She suggested swimming tomorrow as it is a teacher work day and the kids don’t have school. I agreed that would be a good time, but how many kids were we talking about. She assured me just the three of them. The tortilla family took a delighted little splash through the shallow part of the pool, discussed how deep the other part was and picked up their baskets to go. Natalie reminded me that I hadn’t paid her yet. I gave her the money for the tortillas and 3 extra cords which she distributed to her siblings. They left promising to return in the morning at 10 o’clock. Natalie held up two hands with fingers spread wide lest there be any confusion. The children never know quite how much I understand.

Kvetch

Honeymoon is over. I have sun poisoning and the age spots are appearing at an alarming rate. La Mama de Hans (poor, unsuspecting house guest) has been puking all night. I didn’t do my homework and I am behind on ReWA work. My blog is neglected.

Challenges of working here – Monday for instance, it was a national holiday, but I had business meetings on the phone. There have been constant brass bands and fireworks going on in the street and I have to sit in my chair and speak with my work colleagues in the US over a somewhat crackly Skype line.

Historic events are happening; I haven’t written about them for the blog. What a wonderful opportunity to be in Cuba for the 50th Anniversary of the Revolution and the 30th Anniversary of the Revolution here. I watched them both on TV.

This is just like being at home, except that things get so much more complicated and messed up due to my lack of understanding, both the language and the culture. There are two decipherings going on whenever I speak. The listener is trying to bring some meaning into my very short and garbled utterances, and they necessarily use their own experience to inform their guessing. But I am using my experience to telegraph my meaning. It is like the game of telephone. I know this is the basics of cross cultural communication, but now I really know who it feels like.

Rodolfo dropped the tables off when I wasn’t here. They were unpainted. Jose showed up a couple days later to paint them. He splashed and dripped paint all over the floor despite no less than 8 requests not to. Jonathan in frustration told him to just stop. Sylvia suggested he take the tables to another place to paint them. Which he did. He said he would be back in the afternoon. He wasn’t. But when we got back from the Masaya night tour at 7:15, Jose was sitting with our tables on our front step waiting for us. I felt awful. He said it wasn’t a problem, he was just relaxing.

The tables are sort of like the ones in the Central Park.