Wednesday, August 29, 2018

This is no weather for getting angry


 
We've spent a lot more time on our front patio area this year, partly thanks to the additional play area around the casita, and other family relaxing routines.  This particular song comes from an average Sunday afternoon in April, one of the hottest months here. I had recently had a conversation with Miriam's nanny about the weather and she said that in this heat, "...hay que guardar la calma" - in other words: stay calm, don't get worked up, move slowly.

This song couldn't have been more wrong though.  It was also this same month, just a week or so later, when the streets were filled with protesters and months of sociopolitical unrest followed.


(link if the player above doesn't work)


This is no weather for getting angry

summertime sun
and the air is still
there's no will
just a cup of cold water
fill and refill

streets are quiet
and the travelers few
the sky's a clear blue
someone's radio plays
maybe Rosario's news

this is April in Managua again
this is April in Managua my friend
keep calm, they tell me
this is no weather for getting angry
across the road
in the shade of the park
men with their ice cream carts
gathered around
a quiet game of cards

my mind plods along
in a low gear
in a slow gear
pace myself
for thinking here



Thursday, August 23, 2018

Sit with me, my coffee shop love



At this stage of life (kids and work) and in this setting (urban, hot and muggy), one of the escapes that Rebekah and I have come to enjoy is the coffee shop.  There are a few of them here in Managua that are convenient and comfortable, filled with smells of Nicaraguan coffee.  Thanks to Rebekah for the coffee shop visits and singing together with me.

(The picture above is my coffee shop love on this particular morning. The song is equally applicable for her.)



Sit with me, my coffee shop love

sit across from me
table in between
tools for talk
the coffee cups
aligned
conversation starts out slow
between the known and the unknown
it's still early
and our thoughts aren't in gear
we have time
sit with me, my coffee shop love
stay with me, my coffee shop love
and let the others here all disappear
in their reading and their talk
while you and I share what's on our minds
and let our dreams go for a walk
sit with me, my coffee shop love
a coffee mug is deep and wide
they set rosquillas on the side
we talk of life's hard and life's sweet
together held
organize, philosophize,
critique, create, and realize
but maybe mostly
the gift is the moment
together here

some have the art of telling stories
some have the gift of distilling what's true
some share light with joy and compassion
I'm no performer, but let me tell you, I love you



Wednesday, August 22, 2018

To find these missing words


I've been joking these past several weeks that I've forgotten how to hold a normal conversation (optimistically assuming this is a skill I had at some point).  In some trauma and stress training activities from the other week, I learned that this is actually one of many potential normal responses to stressful situations.  Some of us experience something of thought-cramping in our head and have trouble beginning to unravel it.  At the same time, others (my wife) process by thinking out loud, which can make my processing and sharing that much slower.  Thanks to Rebekah for her patience with me in this.

(link if the player doesn't work)


To find these missing words

sun-stained paper folded in a bottle
floating on the waves
tumbling day after day
a long forgotten source, a long way from here
and an uncertain end
awaiting a friend
unknown
unheard
what will it take to find these missing words?
like a dream forgotten
that Daniel will tell
a hidden mystery
unveiled
these few written words, perhaps little to say
what will they become?
they may move no one
yet in being found, to emerge to the chance
is a hope tucked inside
captive of the tide

and might my thoughts wash up to your shore?
cannot be sure
and might I be looking for yours
looking for yours?






Monday, August 13, 2018

Like drops of water in an open hand


I've had some inspiration to share some songs again. Here's one that I had written some months back about one of our favorite spots in Nicaragua, the Laguna de Apoyo.  Like many places here, there is a volcanic history behind this crater lagoon, and it is today a beautiful area.  The water is fantastic; some say its minerals have therapeutic nature. And there is some great food and boats available at restaurants at points around the shore.

In the recent months, this song takes on some additional meaning.  I think about the vulnerability of people in times of unrest, the need for reconciliation in our societies, and the hope of something beautiful, as fragile as it may be, in the process.

Thanks also to Lia and Silas for their enthusiastic participation in the chorus. :)

(link if the player above doesn't work)


Like drops of water in an open hand

blue on blue
sky, lagoon
my feet resting in the water
rocking in a cradle
of an ancient crater
a floating dock above the deep

a violent past
a forceful blast
turning the land inside out
and in its wake
this quiet space
seems suspended outside of time
and here are we
in between
the dangerous and the serene
a simple man
among the lake and the land
like drops of water in an open hand

telling the tale
marvel at the scale
see here creation's resurrection
and from the ashes to rise
a divine surprise
life ascending from the deep

and mirrored, I
and all I despise
shadows around and within
bear a judge's load
or cast no more stones
invited, lifted, in the light


Friday, June 1, 2018

School year-end and Graduation

As many of you know, the sociopolitical situation here over the last month and a half has been complicated, and Lia and Silas's school ended up doing online schoolwork for the last two weeks of school. Silas still got to have a (rescheduled) Kindergarten graduation and we were very proud of him as he stood with his class on stage. He's had some great teachers this year, and he has grown a lot this year in different ways. Congratulations, Silas!







Not our best-organized family picture, but here we are, real-life us.  Silas, you did it!  Lia worked hard this year and has finished up 2nd grade - well done, Lia!  Little Miriam was very cooperative during the graduation ceremony, and we're proud of her too.

Tuesday, May 1, 2018

La casita

This story would never have happened if Dad hadn't tried to bring his ham radio to Nicaragua.  I did more than my share of grumbling or ridiculing my Dad's idea of setting up a tower and radio in order to participate in an international contest. But the leftover lumber from this project turned out to be fun family project.


Here's Dad's tower. I think this may have been the first time I helped him set up something like this, and gained what might be a hint of understanding about why this hobby, which seems backwards to most of us, is so fascinating to my dad. I thought about it in terms of a comparison with a the fixed gear bicycle. In an age of driverless cars, there is something beautiful about the simplicity of a bicycle, and to take it one step farther, a bike with a single gear that doesn't even freewheel. Maybe, in an age of easy and instantaneous digital global communication, there is something tantalizing about sending out a signal off a wire that can be heard around the world. That said, I'm not looking at studying for a license anytime soon though.


For us, the best part of this tower was the base.  Rough cut 2 inch by 4 inch 2x4s. Somewhere in the process of setting up the tower, I started to imagine what kinds of possibilities we would have with this wood after we were through.  Here's Silas helping measure out the cuts.

Family picture in the little house.  We used everything we had and ended up with this minimalist little house. With some imagination, it was a house. But the person who I hoped would enjoy it most, little Miriam, didn't seem to see it as anything.  So a few weeks later, we went for some more wood.

During the Semana Santa / Holy Week when the kids were off school, we added a roof and some boards to create the idea of some windows and doors. Here's Lia and Silas with the painting.
 

We put a hook up under the roof to be able to hang a little hammock seat.  Here are some friends from church over, playing "store" at the window.

One of Silas's favorite uses for the house is to climb onto the roof.  I'm also happy to be finding more ways we can enjoy being together outside on the front patio.  Here, Miriam squats and says "cheese" while Lia takes her picture with a little New Testament.

The "store" window also works nicely for a desk for Miriam. 

And the flower box and smiling children. Casita completa.



Thursday, April 19, 2018

Book "review" / current events

Let's try a different kind of blog post this time: a book review. 



I put "review" in quotes in the title, because this will probably have more to do with events around the book than the literature itself.

The author of interest is Sergio Ramírez.  Last year, he became the first Nicaraguan to be announced as the winner of the Cervantes Prize for Spanish literature.  At the moment, he is in Spain to receive his prize.  He has an interesting background, which I won't make claims to understand in any detail, but he was among the FSLN revolutionary effort, and between 1985-1990, he served as Daniel Ortega's Vice President.  Since then he has dedicated himself more exclusively to literature, although his perspective on politics seem to be around as well, through articles in La Prensa, sharing on Twitter, and of course, through his books themselves.  Interestingly, his view of the reorganized, rebranded FSLN which returned to power in 2006, is critical.

As I'm writing this evening we have unusual protests and government resistance that has actually sent our kids home early from school today and cancelled classes tomorrow. People were recently protesting because of a perception that the government wasn't doing enough to put out a fire in the Indio Maiz nature reserve. Just as those protests were settling, a separate issue stirred public anger as the government approved a reform to the Social Security system, which will have businesses and individuals paying in more, and ultimately receiving less.

Like I said, Sergio Ramirez is in Spain, about to receive his literature prize, and he writes on Twitter, condemning the "violence and repression against the protesters".

At the beginning of the year, I sat down to write some resolutions, and among the was the idea that I should get around to reading something by Ramírez, since he's apparently a great author from Nicaragua. So I picked up his latest book, Ya nadie llora por mí  (Alfaguara, 2017), without really knowing anything about the book.  I just was going to read it to read Ramírez.

The story is of a set of characters who are wildly interconnected across small world Managua, who attempt to find the step-daughter of a very wealthy and powerful businessman. It's a fiction novel, but it is packed full of present day references: people, places, products, etc.  It was interesting to read the book, travelling along to the real-life places where the characters take us.  The characters have their unique qualities and there is some humor along the way, but the story itself is sobering. 

The businessman's wife, encourages her husband to hire a low quality private detective to keep the search for the young woman, Marcela, out of the public eye.  The detective, Dolores Morales, a former Sandinista who lost a leg for the cause, accepts the case. He and his official and unofficial team, begin at the businessman's estate on a wealthy hill behind Club Terraza and eventually find their way to one of the poorest parts of the city, at a church/soup kitchen in the enormous Oriental Market.

The plot shifts from finding Marcela to understanding why she was missing.  This begins to open up themes of domestic violence and of a society where power and justice can be bought. It sheds light on the dramatic economic inequality, even though everyone is at the same time close and interconnected. It describes a police force that is essentially available for hire to the powerful, and uses brutal tactics in public and torture in private to extract information and maintain control.

There is a glimmer of hope for Marcela, and her mother, as they find allies who organize to support and publicize their cause before sending her to safety out of the country. But, ultimately, the powers  are able to weather the embarrassment and re-frame the story in order maintain their economic and sociopolitical position.  Like the title suggests, there is nothing or nobody to cry for anymore.

In light of current events, the book raises timeless questions.  How can a people's demand for just and democratic government be realized? And, how can just and democratic government for the people be sustained?