In the early hours of the 8 April, we first set our feet on the site of the classroom to be. As we encircled the ‘master of work’ - the man who was to instruct us on how to build the classroom, he grimaced at us with a look of disbelief, which stated, more clearly than any words could, how he felt about working with unskilled labourers.
In much of the world gender inequality prevails, and Nicaragua is no exception. Round the clock, daytime soap operas play out on my host family’s snowy 10 inch television screen, and of the snippets I catch at mealtimes the women are portrayed as – pause for groan – either the docile victim or a rouge-lipped vixen. Naturally the men are the heroes, hell-bent on saving the damsels and then seducing them. It’s a dated trope and mostly laughable, yet despite the comedy these shows illustrate the wider gender issues at play.
Since being In Nicaragua, I have found that the perception of time is a complex measurement. I have been here now for three weeks, although it is a short period of time, it feels like I have been away from home forever. As much as time feels like its speeding up, it also feels like it’s standing still.
The beauty of Nicaragua’s northwest highlands was appreciated all the more after the week long training in bustling Managua. As the wheels of the American school bus sped us towards Las Manos we glimpsed canyons and peaks, snaking rivers and valleys. Further north, the scenery fast becomes hilly and forested, and the cooler temperatures nourish a very different landscape. Banana trees and pine swayed together in a curious union as we reached the dramatic slopes of Dipilto. I was elated.
Nestled deep in the vast green desolate mountains lay a well hidden community which borders Honduras, which at first sight seemed to only consist of one small white house with a silver road, which sat at the side of the American highway.
Most of the houses were hidden behind the arrangement of juxtaposing trees. Arriving at our host families we were greeted by friendly faces who showed us our homes which we would be staying in for the next 10 weeks.
Our ICS experience began with a whistle stop tour of Managua. Horns blowing, traffic racing and market stalls lining the streets gave a lively first impression of the Nicaraguan capital. The city streets are a collection of low rise buildings thrown together with a distinct lack of structure; the reason for this being a 6.2 magnitude earthquake which left the city in tatters in 1972. Despite best intentions, the city was never rebuilt properly and a maze of streets and mish-mash of buildings have sprung up in the meantime.
We are over halfway through our Progressio ICS project, and it is a comfort to wake each morning to the crowing of the roosters, and the pat-pat of our host grandmother making tortillas. Sometimes, however, this awakening is accompanied by the acrid smell of burning plastic. At first, all the UK volunteers found it quite unsettling to see these quemas, small bon-fires, littering the yards and gardens of Dipilto Viejo, but we know now that it is an unavoidable part of daily life in rural Nicaragua.
Following the morning rains, the sun beat down upon the local baseball pitch where the festivities were held. Makeshift gazebos and shanty stalls lined the field, selling various local foods, jewelry and of course, plantain.
Every afternoon for the past two weeks, our formidable development team has broken off into teams of expertise to contribute to one of the most challenging, but most rewarding, aspects of development. Education.
In a country steeped in tradition it’s understandable that traditional values, however outdated they may seem, are ingrained into the culture, bonded almost too tight to break. From our experiences here in Nicaragua it seems that the machismo culture is almost as much of a staple for these people as the rice and beans served up regularly for meals. However, every so often you encounter an unexpected attitude which simultaneously restores your hope of things getting better, and reminds you that such liberal opinions are few and far between.
