Land of the guardabarranco

Nicaragua is a small country, but as the famous Nicaraguan poet-statesman Rubén Darío said, "Si la patria es pequeña, grande la sueña" - If the homeland is small, one dreams it big.  I've adapted the phrase in the chorus here - "great is the dream" [of the people].  The more time we spend here, the more we hear about different people groups and different places that would be interesting to explore.

Here's a song of things we have not done, but would wish to do if it were all possible!

Thanks to the kids again for singing along. Thanks to Rebekah for her painting of the guardabarranco (in English, the mot mot) below, and to Dad for his photo of the guardabarranco above.


(link if the player above doesn't work)


Land of the guardabarranco

land of the guardabarranco
land of lakes and volcanoes
with so many stories to tell
Nicaragua
y grande es el sueño

let's take a slow boat out to Ometepe, hike up Concepción
bike riding the island, watch the setting of the sun
go on pilgrimage to Solantiname and while there
take time with the locals' art and join with them in prayer

float down the Río Coco, learn to sing in Miskito
fly to the Corn Islands, snorkel off the coast
explore the unexplored in rainforest Bosawás
listen to creation, greet the quetzals and macaws


let's walk and swim the canyon and taste rosquillas in Somotó
look down at the lava of the Masaya volcano
hike into the waterfall Estanzuela in Estelí
watch the turtles hatch along the beach, make their way out to the sea

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

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

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?

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

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.

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.