Letter from Stephanie, October 2003

Hello friends from sunny, rainy, sunny León, Nicaragua!

Today Amati attended school without mom, an event that has brought the typical mix of emotions of both relief and anxiety (for me). I have been attending with him since he started; can you imagine a parent whispering in your ear for six hours a day, "write, tie your shoe, take out your science notebook, all papers need to go into folders, she asked if you understand, he asked if you speak Spanish, they said ... she said ... say this ..."? Chances are good he's quite happy with my lips detached from his earlobes. And, if you can believe it, I was happy being able to wash my clothes at 6:15 (by hand) rather than the typical 2pm when the sun is so hot. (Mom, you are right...one can wear some things twice in a row before washing them.)

I am still hoping that all of my linguist friends were accurate in saying Amati will learn to converse at least on a basic level in Spanish and that somehow my boy, in the case he doesn't learn, will not be the research project of some graduate student in linguistics! I am hopeful. Each day he learns a word or short phrase. Often he uses "un momento, como se llama?, tranquilo." A few days ago he said "Mi papa, nicaraguense." Last week Amati shared his first, unprompted, unrehearsed, spontaneous conversation with a classmate from school.

Amati: Hola, Que tal? (Hello, how's it going?)

Crisbell: Bien, y vos? (Well, and you?)

Amati: Bien. Habla ingles? (Well. Do speak English?)

Crisbell: Un poco. (A little.)

Amati : Te gusta el ingles? (Do you like English?)

Crisbell: Si me gusta. (Yes, I like it!)

(Amati places a Kleenex on his head.)

Amati: Te gusta mi sombrero? (Do you like my hat?)

Crisbell: (laughs) Si me gusta! (Yes, I like it!) (A classmate sneezes.)

Amati: Salud! (Bless you!)

I wish I could say he then took the kleenex off his head and gave it to the student!

At school Amati is surrounded by kids who have some connection to the States, Europe, or Canada. Twice he has been invited to his friend Lionel's home, a sharp, serious boy who speaks German as well as English and Spanish. The feeling of being apart from Amati takes me back to the days of post-partum depression due to the fact that Amati and I have been literally eating, sleeping, talking, playing, studying, reading together 24/7! The kids here are further along in cursive writing and math, so I have been spending a lot of time working with him. He enters 'la la land' often with the lack of language proficiency and the traditional lecture style of teaching, but as illustrated in the conversation above, daily I experience refreshed hope that he will feel more a part of things with his developing language skills.

How often do we let fear decide the direction of our life? This is something I have thought about a lot. Sitting on the bus traveling to school the first day, I felt so much fear for Amati ... that he be accepted, understood, taken care of ... I had to list in my head the benefits of this sojourn, benefits that were so clear to me in the states, but when challenged by the nerves, blurred. With inquiry I learn Amati doesn't feel the same fear I do. James Dean roughly said "I cannot control the direction of the wind, but I can adjust the positions of the sails of my ship." How often does fear adjust the sails? Heart? Love? How often do we let our fear of fear hold our kids back from new friendships, hobbies, rich lessons? When should we let fear keep us and our kids from continuing? I know fear isn't winning ... here I am ... but it is very present ... often.

I begin my work as an assistant of sorts with Project MN-Gettysburg León next week. In Nov and Dec., PMGL coordinators are involved with a Christmas toy donation program benefiting the poorest in the communities along the Rio Chiquito River and in other barrios in the León area. Apparently 5,000 toys are arriving soon at the office. They will need to be classified, sorted, and distributed. (Lots of fiestas!). This will stretch me in many ways, as non governmental organization work is new for me. I am curious to see how Amati will respond to seeing all the gifts go to others, as his only child/grandchild status shows through often when it comes to him sharing space, attention, and things.

Poverty, and eliminating it, is complicated. While empowering one Nicaraguan you find yourself enabling another. Example #1: While paying a Señora to let us join her for lunch in her home each day, I know my money is also feeding her 36-year-old son who refuses to work, and who verbally and physically abuses both mother and sister. Example #2: The house Amati and I are living in is a home that is inhabited by a 21-year-old woman, her child, and her non-working 26-year-old brother. Not only does this 21-year-old woman do all of the housework, and most all of the care of the child, she also works. Her father, who lives in the US, cut off help to all of them because both the men stopped studying. While my money allows food for the mom and her son, it also allows the guys to "hang out," harass the adolescent girls on the street, and drink.

Last weekend Amati, his friend Ricardo, and I went to a local pool to swim. Making it very clear to all the kids on the block that it could only be Ricardo that goes with us, we started on our way. Another little boy, who spends most of his time on the street, followed us. Several times I made it clear that today it would be only Ricardo, Amati, and I going to the pool. After a 25-minute walk to the bus stop, I reiterated this, apologized, and hopped with the boys onto the bus. After a 20-minute bus ride we hopped off, and guess who was there? Our friend. I repeated my statement and since we had time to kill (an hour and a half before the pool opened), we stopped for a refreshment. He followed. I hesitated, but ultimately bought all a Coke (in a plastic bag, of course!). We continued to the pool. He followed. Since I refused to pay for his entry, he watched while Amati tried to teach Ricardo to swim! (Very touching.) When Amati and Ricardo were done, we walked to the bus stop. As I had assumed, this boy had no money for the trip home. I asked myself, "Do I reward and enable this behavior and pay? or Do I give him a logical consequence and let him walk?" The thought of something happening to him helped me decide. I paid.

Do you give a peso to the little girl begging, or is it giving her one more reason not to attend school? These little moral struggles take place in my head every day.

If you folks are still reading this, thank you for letting me share! You are always in my thoughts. I wish I could see the leaves change color with you...

Please send a sentence about what you are up to!

Stephanie and Amati