Snapshots and Snippets

A few snippets...

Listening to the chickens, dogs, and kids as I stretch, squint at the first morning rays of sun, and breath in the crisp morning air.

Waking at 6:00 AM to hike the 2 km up to Tonia's mountainous piece of well loved land where we water the many foreign and delicious crops as he share's the deep rooted history of the place.

Grasping onto the back of a motocycle as I cruz down to the closest sizable dirt-road town to buy chicken, potatoes, and onions. Ingredients my host mother weaves into a most savorily and mouth watering spread.

Dancing to the rhythm of the pounding feet around me as I swirl around the smiling faces honoring the Quinceañera.

Following my shadow on the well worn dirt path bathed in the light from a stunning full moon.

Lying on a rough cot thinking of the hot days work as I listen to the stillness of the place.

A few snapshots...

Playing with host brothers.

Tough day.

Suppertime.

Heavily used stove.

Making the most delicious tortillas on earth.

Interested woman during the stove fair.

Eating arroz con leche during the stove fair.

Eager children.

Small and medium stove option.

Discussing the stoves.

Making tortillas.

Two week old piglets.

Tonia proudly showing us his farm.

Baseball!

Getting ready.

Hanging with the team.

Making masks with the kids.

Riding home after yet another successful trip in El Jocote.

Sunsets, Angela, and Portraits

Nicaragua has been good to me. My time has been filled with beautiful sunsets, warm welcoming families, stove building, and laughing children. I'm still happy. still healthy. still doing well.

Blazing Sunset at Las Peñitas.

Bee Hive.

Little Birdie.

Chick born during the night.

Symbiotic relationship. Chicken eats fleas, dog is flea free.

Gringo cowboy #2

Sunset in the city of León

Beginning the stove building process.

Teamwork.

Almost finished.

The proud Angela putting the finishing touches on her new stove.

Back to San Jose de Bocay

I just returned from San Jose de Bocay where my first batch of stoves were built. It's rewarding to witness how much the families love their new stoves. They eagerly explained all the wood-saving that occurred (50%-70%) and how nice their smoke-free kitchens were to live in.

Leaving San Jose de Bocay

The dust swirls around as I navigate towards the bus marked for Matagalpa. I look aroung the noisy and choatic "bus terminal" of San Jose de Bocay. A handful of buses flank my left, an old woman stands proud behind her small food stall, dogs bark chasing chickens, mothers hold screaming children, and there are people selling everything from cold sodas to leather belts to bird cages. The place is packed. I move my way through the crowd empathizing with the misplaced kernnel of corn lying in the sack of beans to my right. San Jose de Bocay is more or less what you would imagine a trading post to look like from the wild west. Its a place to get all your staples: a 40lb bag of rice, dried corn, a sack of beans, and the occasionally needed flower-patterned mattress. If you know where to look, all your needs can be met in this little town nestled between wet green hilltops.

Being the first stop on a 6-hour trip through the mountainous region of Nicaragua, I luckily get a seat. The bus will fill, and eventually the scenic rooftop option will be the only spot left to occupy. When it comes to Nicaraguan buses I regularly find myself hot, sweating, and standing squashed between a large man and a mother nursing her child. Personal space has no room to breath here, let alone exist. Just when I think the bus cannot possibly cram anymore people, the vendors board and push their way through the aisle yelling and trying in vain to sell their tasty treats. "Heeellladdooo, Heeeelllladdoooo, Solomente 10 pesitos, heeeeelllladdooo!!"

The bus finally creeps forward, ushering the vendors off the bus. I look fondly out the window at the lushious green mountains rising around me. Just as I'm taking in the view, I hear someone yell, "Ricardo, Ricardo!" Its 8-year old Hanzel, the smiling grandson of Rosario. She was the happy recipient of my first stove in Nicarauga. Hanzel and I had spent a few days building stoves together and playing at the school. He loves helping out, and always wants to see more magic tricks. Hanzel had run to the bus terminal to say goodbye. Out of breath, he explains how he wants to see me off. Reaching out the window, I stretch my arm down just barely enough to complete our customary high-five. He smiles and wishes me a good trip back! As I finally pull out of SJDB, I look to see Hanzel waving farwell atop a green grassy hill beside the rocky dirt road.

A local kid loving his oversized bicycle.

Heavily used and loved improved cookstove.

Helping build a stove at La Casa Materna, a women's birthing center.

Hanzel and Brandon. Local kids always love to help out.

The Faces of El Jocote

Rice, Beans, and Quahada

Sunset from my room in Managua.

Days are filled with stove research, collaboration, cookstove presentation, eating beans and rice, and getting to know the lifestyle of rural Nicaragua, "El Campo".

Below are some photos and a snapshot of what life in the countryside is like.

A day in El Jocote

I wake to the pounding and grinding of hot corn tortillas being made right outside my door. I fumble for my watch in the darkness, its 4:40 am. The sun won't rise for another hour or so, but as usual the family is up and getting ready for the day. Being a gringo not accustomed to the early ritual, I pull the thin sheet over my head and try to sleep another few hours despite the choir of town roosters urging me to get up.

I finally rise, walk into the smoke filled kitchen and sit down to eat my gallo pinto (a traditional Nicaragua food of beans and rice). I stumble through my broken Spanish wishing my host parents Marta, Tonio, and their daughter Ivania a good morning. "Buenas dias Marta!...muchas gracias por la comida...si dormí muy muy bien...no, no oído nada, dormí bien!"

Jeff, the other intern and only other Gringo for miles, comes up to my host family's home at 8:30am and we head off to work Jose Carlos' farm. We arrive to the small slopped batch of land and help install the first drip-irrigation system in town, complete with a solar-powered pump. As we work together to lay the black plastic drip-pipe, I take breaks to joke around and take pictures with the children. The children are eager to help in anyway they can. Just as the hot sun becomes unbearable, two of the children run off and arrive back with fresh squeezed orange juice. Gerald, a 9 year-old boy whose grandfather owns the farm, gives me a huge smile as he hands me the full glass of juice. I smile back grateful for the act of kindness. We finish our work and all stand back admiring the new system.

Lunch is more beans and rice, but with the added bonus of salty hardened milk quahada, a Nicaraguan style cheese.

After lunch I set forth to get to know the community and how the woman feel about their cook stoves. They comment that their stoves create bothersome smoke, and use a lot of wood. The smoke is extremely harmful to their lungs and eyes, and the wood is hauled by the families from their mountainous farms 2 km above. But, after seeing a demonstration of an improved cook stove, they are excited about trying one out. I continue walking from house to house with my host father Tonio leading the way. We talk to 7 different families before the sun starts to set. Wiping the afternoon sweat from our brow, we head back to Tonio's mud-walled and tin-roofed home just in time for dinner.

Dinner is beans, rice, quahada, and tomatoes.

As dinner comes to an end, we talk about the day and how the water flowed from the spigot for only a half-hour. One way or another conversations always seem to end up being about water, who uses the most, when it's turned on, and the shear lack of it.

As the night dwindles down, I grab the 100-year-old looking guitar off the wall and head for the porch. After some thorough massaging, the horribly out-of-tune guitar actually starts to sound sweet. I breath in the fresh air, stare out across the pitch-dark valley, and pick along to the sound of crickets in the distance. I feel absolutely calm.

Exhausted from the days work, I say goodnight to the valley of roosters, chickens, cats, dogs, horses, cows, pigs, farms, smiling children, welcoming faces, and forty-four homes that make up "El Jocote".

Irrigation pipe that was laid.

Presenting how Improved cook-stoves work.

Smoke filled kitchen.

Kids come running when they hear a truck, and love to jump on.

View from my host family's porch.