You Can't Do That Here

"You can't do that here."

I've heard this more than a few times since showing up in Nicaragua four years ago. And being the stubborn ox that I am, that's all I need to hear to dig my heels in and prove a naysayer wrong.

Here are a few examples.

1) Have punctuality as a core value of BECA and reward only those who show up on time."

"This is Nicaragua, Walter. Are you nuts? You won't have any students left at the end of your screening course."

"Just watch us."

Sure enough, Nicaraguan youth are more than happy to show up on time. And from what I've seen, they're a lot better at it than some of their teachers.

2) Have three months of social service as a component of the BECA screening process.

Here even my main man in Nicaragua -- Excecutive Director Antonio Rodriguez -- had serious doubts.

"Nicaraguans don't believe much in community service. It isn't part of our culture."

"Just watch us."

It doesn't surprise me to see a majority of our students participate, and participate earnestly and enthusiatically (albeit not initially). So much about volunteering not being part of Nicaraguan culture.

3) Project Call Center. We have a goal of training a group of ten serious-minded young people in intensive English (8 hours a day!) to help them get employment in a Call Center afterwards.

To my surprise, a representative from one of the Call Centers themselves indicated to us his doubts. "I'm not sure it's possible. You are asking way too much of these youngsters."

That's all I needed to hear. I'm not sure if it's going to work, but it won't be because of a lack of blood, sweat and tears.

Why am I confident? Because we know how to do one thing well here at BECA.

And that's believe in our students.

And believe in them as unconditionally as possible. That's basically what we down here. Believe. The students do all the hard work. Our team can sit back and enjoy their successes.

After four years in Nicaragua, I am just now coming to realize the power of this simple concept.

Unconditional belief in a person can move mountains.

So Mr. "Call Center Expert" Don't underestimate these young people. We believe in them.

So I say to you . . .

"Just watch them."

What I Miss in Nicaragua

One thing that I go without more than I would like to here in Nicaragua?

A really, good stimulating conversation.

I'm not talking about the superficial blah-blah-blah like weather, sports scores, and traffic conditions.


I mean the deeper stuff.

One on one conversations, face to face.

I love talking about deeper issues, provocative issues, current events.



It's probably my fault and I suppose there a couple of obstacles to overcome.

• Nicas say that I'm intimidating.
• Others say that my Spanish is pathetic and not worth the while.
• Still others suggest that I'm too blunt for their taste.
• It has also been suggested that "my doors appear closed."

All points well taken. I will work harder, especially on the last point.

But if you still want to talk about the weather?

It's hot. Period.

Let's go to the next topic, okay? :)

At Last, My Love Has Returned

At long last you have returned to me, the love of my life.

It feels like an eternity since I held you. An eternity of more than ten months.

How deeply I have missed the touch of your soft skin.

And how profoundly warm it makes me feel inside to have you here at my side.

My dear Rosita.

Why, I ask you, must you limit your visits so? Why must you limit your visit to a painfully inadequate seven weeks?

Why, I ask you?

And then . . . you leave me alone again. To suffer companionless in this foreign land.

And I begin again the arduous countdown of your return.

Why must love be so cruel?

Alas, it is pointless to torture myself now by thinking of your impending departure.

Allow me these seven weeks of contented bliss.
Allow me these seven weeks to drown myself in the heavenly taste of your sweet nectar.

My dear Rosita.

My precious Nicaraguan mango.

How I adore you.

It Happened Like This - A Lesson about Dogs and Development

I live in this motel-style apartment "complex" in Estelí. And the central figure of this narrative is one of my neighbors who happens to be a fellow Canadian. Ralph.

So as it turns out the people who take care of this apartment complex where we live had a dog. Apparently they had this dog for more than 10 years.

And they absolutely adored the dog.

I say had a dog, because about six weeks ago the animal died. 

They even had a funeral for the dog. (Kinda rare around here. Sadly, dogs don't get a lot of respect.)

And, supposedly the employees cried their eyes out when they buried the dog.

My neighbor attended the funeral and was really touched by the whole episode.

"You know what I'm going to do Walter?"

"What's that, Ralph?" I replied.

"I'm going to look around and find a dog to replace that one that died. You should have seen those people CRY!"

"Better yet," continued Ralph, "I'm going to go one better. I'm gonna buy those distraught souls two dogs" he blurted out exhuberantly.

And off he went.

And just like he said, the following week two dogs showed up that he found in another Nicaraguan city (Granada).


Here's where things get interesting. 

The employees didn't want the two new dogs.

They didn't want anything to do with the dogs.

In fact, they hated the new dogs.

"Who's going to take care of them?" I heard them say. It wasn't a pretty picture.

Visibly upset, poor Ralph had to contact the animal shelter in Granada and ship the dogs back.

I share this story because it is a wonderful analogy for what can happen here in Nicaragua.

Well-meaning, kind-hearted foreigners come to the country, and see what they think is a problem and decide to do something about it.

Here's the kicker. They don't consult with the people involved before they activate their action plan.

What's the result?

Some bad feelings. Wasted energy.

And in this case . . .  a couple of very confused dogs.

An Ode to Masaya

I miss my dear city of Masaya.

Oodles and oodles. (Look that one up my dear "pioneers.")

This is the Nicaraguan city that welcomed me with open arms in August 2008 when I first arrived as an old youngster eager to change the world.

Last year I left as a slightly older youngster to live in the North of Nicaragua. First in Matagalpa (about four months), and then Estelí -- six months and still counting.

Nothing wrong with those places. Nothing at all. Biggest plus is the climate up there. It's much more suitable to my Canadian blood.

And let me tell you that there's plenty not to like about Masaya:

• It's darn hot.
• It has more mosquitoes.
• There is more dust. 
• There is more garbage on the street.
• And, it's noisy.

But you're beautiful Masaya.

And I love you.

And I'm thinking of coming back home.