Katarin's Story

 

Today you are going to get to know Katarin.  The whole team knew Katarin almost immediately after hitting the ground. She is one of those kids who makes herself known. 

 Katarin is the older sister of little Rosa who you met in the last post. She is three years old, which in Nicaraguan years must be closer to 10 since as far as I could tell, she was responsible for not only herself, but for her two year old sister. 

Although she is from the same family as Rosa, she is very different. She has a sparkle in her eye. And she smiles.   And she is spunky!

Katarin has learned to fight and scrape for what she gets. I very much believe that that is out of necessity.  She places herself strategically where she is sure to receive the most benefit. Whether that means butting in front of people to be first in line, screaming at the top if her lungs "a mi! a mi!" when we were passing stuff out,  making a new front row with her chair if she isn't in the front, or even bumping her little sister out of her chair if necessary...Miss Katarin did not show a lot of respect for boundaries or an abundance of manners when it came to getting hers. 

 Is that normal behavior for a three year old?  Yep, absolutely!  But where as most little ones make a couple of shots at it, have their efforts thwarted, and then fall into line, Katarin is relentless. 

 I got talking to our translator one day about how hard it was some times to convince the kiddos- even the older ones to share. Her insight, which was very helpful to me, was that a lot of times, in communities such as this, the children are instructed not to share their things, because they don't get them back, and the families cannot afford to replace them. That makes sense, but what a sad thing to feel compelled to teach your children. While we American moms make a huge deal about sharing, our counter-parts in disadvantaged areas are teaching just the opposite. And I know for my children, there were penalties for not sharing. I can only imagine what a penalty might be for a Nicaraguan child who lost their stuff.  

 But I think that's not the whole story here. Because Katarin seemed to take it to another level.  Not only did she not want to share stuff, she didn't want to share us. 

She was literally the first one there every day, and was still hanging around each day as we left.  If we were seated, she was trying to get in our laps.  She was in our faces non-stop. It became really apparent that this little 3 year old just plain wanted attention.   Good attention, bad attention, she would take any kind of attention she could get. She got braver an braver as the week wore on. She liked putting the crayons in her mouth.  Since we were teaching about germs, I would ask her not to put them in her mouth. She would do it again, I would ask again. Then it got to the point that she would wait until I was looking at her, open her mouth really big, cock her head at me and slowly move the crayon to her mouth.  What a little toot!  Then, she got braver. She would poke us in the rear, or grab something away from another child, then when asked to give it back, turn around and stick her hiney out at us, and make us chase her.  

I chuckled on our way back to the drill sight several times that she was going to be famous some day. An actress, a politician, some sort of career that enjoys a lot of recognition. Because that was what this little girl was all about!

 Then, we witnessed something that explained a lot of why she craves attention. It was something that I think will haunt me for the rest of my life. 

Katarin fell into a ditch near the drill site. She and another child. Wow, those little three year old lungs can make some noise. She screamed bloody murder for a long time. See, she's going to be an actress, right?!?  But she didn't stop. It soon became obvious that she was really hurt. Her arm was not right. It looked twisted. Did she break it? Dislocate her elbow?

 The preacher happened to be at the drill site that day, and since he travels back and forth from Managua, he had a motorcycle with him. So he hops on his bike and goes to find Katarin's father, who was out working in a field. His response was "There's nothing I can do about it."  Stop the presses!  He said what?  Are you kidding me???  I was absolutely stunned. What even mediocre parent says that?  Your 3 year old is injured and in pain, and you can't do anything about it? Righteous indignation had NOTHING on me at that moment. And want to talk judgement?  I was all over that like white on rice!  But wait, it gets better!  The preacher goes and finds Grandpa. Grandpa agrees to take her to the doctor. OK, good. Things are looking up for little Katarin. Wrong!

 About 15 minutes later, I look up and she is at her house waiving at me.  I don't know about any of you, but can you get to your doctor, be seen, possibly x-rayed, and then get home, all in about 15 minutes?i

 So I go over and get her. She is very excited because she has a coke!  I walk her over to the area where we were doing our stuff with the kids. Theresa talked to her and asked her if she went to the doctor. She said yes, and the doctor said no. We didn't get that. She said her arm didn't hurt anymore. 

 But as she played, the team members noticed that she wasn't bending her arm, and her hand wasn't right. And her elbow just didn't look right. It was dislocated. 

Lauren and I tried to play the little game with her where you hold their hands and swing them. Our hope was that her little arm would go back in to place. (Yes, Lauren does have medical knowledge). As soon as we tried, she started crying ¡no puedo! (I can't!)

 So, essentially, dad did nothing, and grandpa bribed her with a coke. And then, she, A THREE YEAR OLD, wanted our attention so badly that she put that above the pain she was feeling and came back to play. 

 That was our last morning there. We had to leave, not knowing if she was going to get the treatment she needed. I will always wonder.  Did she?  If not, what are the long term affects?  Will she become even more disadvantaged because of a physical impairment?  Will she ever get the attention she so desperately craves?

 As a parent, I have done a lot of thinking about this.  My strong inclination is to judge - judge dad, judge grandpa - even mom!  But really - with all the people that we know are living in dad's household - did him being in that field make the difference between that family eating or going hungry that night. Would it have jeopardized the job that he needs just to keep his family from starving?  Did he feel a horrible sense of guilt and shame because he couldn't care for his daughter?

 Again, I will never know. I know that I would move heaven and earth to help my hurting child. But my earth and his earth are very different places. I just hope that he has faith or finds faith in Jesus Christ as his savior, so that we can all enjoy the same heaven. 

 

May my steps be worship. May my thoughts be praise. May my words bring honor to Your name. 

 

Getting to Know Rosa

 This is our new friend Rosa.  Cute kid right?  A little dirty?  Take a really good look at the picture.  Selfishly I don't want to be the only one who has the image of this little girl burned into my retinas.  I refer to her as the Poster Child for poverty.  I can see it, can't you?  The above picture, cropped so as to only show her. 

Rosa lives in the community where we were drilling the well.  In fact, Rosa's house is the one closest to the well.  There is a part of me, a really big part, that believes that that may be the only advantage this baby may ever have in her life.

Miss Rosa is two years old.  She has at LEAST 5 older siblings.  We think both the mom and dad live in her house - but not 100% sure about the dad.  We never saw him.  We think there were maybe a couple of other  adults living there, maybe, but again, not quite sure.  So, estimates of maybe 7 - 10 persons living in her house.  But her house was not like the 'rich' folks house that I pictured yesterday.  It is smaller - it is more poorly built - it makes the houses in the most disadvantaged areas in San Antonio look like palaces.

Rosa was ALWAYS with us - every day - every hour.  During those many days and hours, I saw her smile exactly twice.  Here goes Karen, exaggerating, right?  No, I promise you, I saw her smile twice.  I shoved my camera at someone (Emily maybe) to take the picture above, because when I bounced my knees and gave her a bumpy ride, we got this, the 2nd of Rosa's smiles.

We kinda thought that maybe she had a hearing deficit - because she rarely spoke either.  But I noticed her copying some of the kids who were walking down the path saying "Beep Beep", and I softly called her name a few times to see if she would respond, and she did.  Why doesn't she talk?  Most kids her age are have reached full magpie status.  They love to imitate and spout out all the things they have been taught...here it is, my 'aha' moment.

What has she been taught?  I only saw her mom with her once, and there was very little interaction.  And no smiles.  Who sits on the floor with Rosa with the board book teaching her her colors?  My guess is nobody.  I am not sure Rosa owns a book.  Does she have a See n Say teaching her that "The cow says Moo!"  Don't think so.  I believe that Rosa leaves her house every morning, and just wanders around.  Her older sister (who is a whopping 3 years old - whose intensely sad story you will hear later) kinda watches her.  Not in a supervisory way at all, more of just an awareness that she is with her.  Not enough to keep her from walking through the hot coals of the trash fire that is in the middle of the path, or falling into a ditch, or any of the other pitfalls that are all over the community.

And Rosa is REALLY REALLY dirty.  If you have read the blog, you have heard references to her.  She is the one that came to us the first day with caked green snot all in her nose and upper lip.  She is the one with literally colonies of lice in her hair - the one who got down on all fours and scratched the top of her head with the dirt.  Her mom bathed her one day, and she showed up with wet hair, and her scalp was bleeding in places, and scabbed over in others.  She has some kind of sores on her body, as do the other 3 siblings that we got to meet.   Notice how she looks in the picture above.  Now, realize that that picture was taken at about 8:30 in the morning.  That was her best for the day.  Those were the same clothes that she had worn the day before, and, I am assuming, slept in.

She walks around scratching herself constantly.  She scratches her head; she scratches her hiney and her private areas.  During one of our hygiene lessons, we were having the kids wash their faces and hands.  I personally used 6 Wet Ones on her, turned them completely brown, and then gave up.  Theresa Turner came in after me and used several more.  I am not sure we ever got just her hands and face clean, much less any of the rest of her.

So that is a little view of my Poster Child.  Does anyone brush her teeth, or will she be like so many other children with their teeth already rotted out by the age of 5?  Does she own a toothbrush?  If so, I am betting there is no toothpaste.  We know that she is bathed occasionally.  Does she have a bed?  And if so, does she have sheets?  And if so, do those sheets ever get washed?  Does she ever get read to?  Prayed with?  Tucked in and told that she is loved?  She had a few bruises, but it didn't look to me like she was battered.  But, she is neglected.  Whose fault is that?  Is she just part of the cycle?  Is she being raised like her mother before her?  Is mom doing her best?  Who knows.  I am not here to pass judgement, just to inform. 

I have another whole blog session coming up about her sister Katarin.  A story of a very sad event that we witnessed. 

My hope is that you realize that these little girls' stories, though probably amongst the most extreme of what we witnessed, are not unique.  There are literally millions of little Rosas out there.  The question is, what do we do about it?

May my steps be worship.  May my thoughts be praise.  May my words, bring honor to Your name.

If a Picture Paints a thousand words...

 The Start of the Project

Mixing the Bentonite - or the technical term - snot

Sale of the illegal peanuts.  The people run into the fields after the harvest and gather what the machines left.  If they are caught, the peanuts and the money are confiscated.

The infamous Latrine!

 

Pata, Pata, Pollo!

 

 

Arelis
Erlinda

Jason Antonio, Najeli, Eric

 

 Josh manning the rig - Jim doing the dirty work!

First Clean Water!

 

The Rich People's House

Proud Pump Papa

 

 

 

 

The plaque that was set into the concrete by the well

Rosa - one of only 2 times I saw her smile

 

Kids just being kids

!



 Our new friends, and their completed well

The Voices in My Head

Well, my intention was to use this blog as a travel journal.  Not that my feeble mind can't remember details, it's just that...um...OK - it really is that my feeble mind can't remember details.  And I knew that the details of this trip were going to be important.  That was a gross underestimation on my part.

And maybe it isn't so much in the details, but in the thoughts that those details have provoked.  So, this blog will continue on for a while.  Maybe a week, maybe a month - maybe longer...who knows.  But there is so much more that I need to process.  And so very many things that I don't want to forget.

All last night in bed, and all today, the voices in my head have been screaming at me.  'You need to talk about this!  You need to wax poetic about that!  You need to hop on your soapbox and share this with the world!"  So, I am going to use today's post to try to get some of those subjects written down so that I don't forget them, and I can silence the voices.  (OK, the voices are metaphorical, so all you people (Kristen shout out, lol) who think you can finally commit me are wrong!)

First, let me update you on our walking wounded.  Dan R started his post exposure rabies treatment.  Another example of the bravery that the members of this team showed.  He didn't whine, or complain, or make a big deal out of it.  He kept the focus on what we were there for, and not on him.  As far as Rob's foot goes, the X-rays show no broken bones.  So probably just a bad sprain.  He is a strong man.  The morning after he hurt it it was UGLY.  But he grabbed his work boots, stuffed his swollen painful toe into them and went out to work.  An injury like that would have put this girl down, I would have been finished for the trip.  But my strong brave guy shrugged it off and went right back at it. 

So now, we are all safely back in the US, back to our normal everyday lives.  I'm not so sure that my life will ever be normal again though.  So, the big question is - What do we do with it?  What is the new normal?

One of the catch phrases for the team is that we need time 'to process'.  I am already tired of saying that.  But it is the best way to describe it.  What we saw was so much bigger than any of us, or all of us put together for that fact.  So, as I continue to write this blog (my way of processing?) here are some of the things that I really want to talk about:

Rosa - the poster child
Katarin - Rosa's sister - a sad sad story
Sharing
Oxymorons
Judgment
Perspectives on Blessings
Gifts and Talents
Base Hits vs Home Runs
Waste
Nicaraguan Military

There are more things - maybe less because all of the above things could blur into each other.  I would love if  some folks took this journey with me.  But in order for me to process, I need to be brutally honest, and I tend to be frank in ways that some people might not like.  So if that isn't your cup of tea, I understand.  But I hope that what I write provokes something - thought, conversation, action, questions...but selfishly I hope that it provokes some answers, because right now, I have a lot of questions.

May my steps be worship, may my thoughts be praise, may my words bring honor to Your name.

It is finished

It's done. The pump is completed - the well has been dedicated - we have said our goodbyes. (Maybe you will see some pictures..maybe not)

Josh Zimmer is providing our driller perspective for today:

"Today was very humbling. To see the expressions of gratitude once the well began to produce water, it was overwhelming. We received comments of appreciation from some of the men of San Blas. But then one of the mothers was given an opportunity to speak...she had barely begun to heap God's blessings on us when her voice broke and I saw a genuine look of relief come over her face as she started to sob these tears of joy over God's answered prayers. I like to think I realized, maybe intellectually, what we were contributing to. But this was the first time I saw a glimpse of the emotion attached to what God had accomplished there."

Again, thanks to all my guest bloggers. I couldn't have done it without them.

And here is one more video from our documentarian (is that a word? If not I made it up...which someone once told me is a sign of psychosis) Dan Richardson

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O2unkyuSm2g&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Dan has done a fabulous job of chronicling our trip! Look for us soon in a theater near you!


After we finished with the well dedication, the ladies of the village served us a huge lunch, which was so humbling. I cannot begin to explain the poverty from which they gave. They would never serve their families a meal like that. I can't quantify that it cost each family a weeks income or 10 days...but it was massive. Think about the daily income of your family. Now think about if you spent 2 days income on a meal for complete strangers. Now think about 5 days - a week? What kind of meal could you buy for a weeks salary? THAT is along the lines of the gift that these precious people gave us today. And we couldn't eat it all. No way. And the other thing that just kills me about that is that conventional wisdom at the table was that the leftovers were most likely thrown in a big pot and served again for dinner. Maybe you can't imagine spending a weeks income on a meal, but I am pretty sure that you can get a pretty good visual of eating a complete stranger's leftovers.

I am so very out of words. But I have one last story. I have a foot that gives me problems, and there is only one brand of shoe that I can wear that doesn't cause me problems, especially if I spend any time on my feet. The problem is that the are open-toe. They suggest that we wear closed toe shoes to the community. After the first day, I was in quite a bit of pain, so talked to Jorge about it. I got a special dispensation to wear my good shoes - my flip flops. Almost first thing in the morning this morning, I stepped in cow caca. (In Nicaragua, caca is a totally acceptable word, so since I am still here I plan to use it at will). So I am shuffling my feet, trying to rid myself of the cow caca (caca caca caca), and my shoe (actually the non-caca shoe) broke. The part that goes between your toes. Now, in the US, the shoes would have gone in the trash. But Santo grabbed my shoe, dug around in the his little tool box, and fixed my shoe! Good as new! I walked all over, played frisbee, just went about my day as if nothing ever happened. That is what our Nicaraguan friends do. When something is broken, they make it new, and continue on as if nothing ever happened. And isn't that what Christ does for us? We are broken, broken people. And when we come to him, he makes us new again. We are a new creation and we are forgiven as if nothing ever happened. Jesus is out there, waiting for us to see him. And in today's world sometimes it seems really hard to do so. But I have seen him a lot this week. In the children who trusted me and clung to me, just because I showed them a small tiny kindness. In a mother in a community who is always watching out for other children whose moms are out picking illegal peanuts for less than $1.50 a day. In the men and women who pushed themselves past their physical limits to help provide safe drinking water for their hurting brothers and sisters. In the women who tirelessly loved on filthy, dirty, snot, scab and lice covered children with total abandon. In the Facebook posts of my friends in the US who are praying and shedding tears over the senseless loss of life in that Connecticut school shooting this morning. And, in the hands of the man who took my dirty broken shoe today, and made it new.

Father God, just for today
Help me walk your narrow way.
Help me stand where I might fall.
Give me the strength to hear your call.

May my steps be worship.
May my thoughts be praise.
May my words bring honor to Your name.

Small Update - Big News

Got hold of Dr. Bob and he told us that in the US they usually wait 10 days before starting rabies treatments while the dog is observed. The bad news is that I don't get
to get to watch him cry like a sissy girl. The good news is that he can wait till he gets to the states and get care from his own doctor. So so happy for our brother Dan. I know that his beautiful wife has to be very relieved as well. God is good!

All is WELL!

Today, we saw the week's work come to completion. I just want to cry. I am so amazing in a crisis. I am strong, I am level headed, I am brave...then, after the crisis is over, in the still of the night when nobody is looking, I completely and totally breakdown and dissolve into a great big chocolatey mess. That is where I am right now. Not that this week was a crisis in typical fashion. But in ways, it kinda was. We all had to rise to levels we didn't know we had. We had to rise physically - the last four days were tough. And I feel really stupid saying that. We hygiene girls have NOTHING on the drill team. But for the last four days we have been outside, in 90 degree weather, from about 8 a.m. until about 4 p.m. We have inhaled dust all day. We have inhaled smoke all morning. (Because BFI doesn't visit this neck of the woods, trash is heaped into little piles at each household and burned every morning.). We have played with children who have boundless energy. The minute we pulled in to the village each morning, those little folks were ready for us, and as soon as we stepped out of the van, we needed to be on! And as silly as it sounds, trying to communicate with 40 or so little people in a language that you only pretend to speak is exhausting work! All that said, I cannot even imaging how tired our drillers are. But right now we have several walking wounded. Rob fell into a hole yesterday, and by the looks of things, may have a broken foot.  It is ugly, ugly, ugly!  (This about a man who usually has very sexy feet!)  And today, our dear brother Dan was bitten by a dog.  Rabies is always fatal, (less than 10 cases of symptomatic persons who have survived) so tomorrow Dan will be heading to begin the rabies treatment regimen.  Chances are good that he is not infected, but really, who would want to take that chance.  I plan to go along with him so that I can chronicle the event in video, and if he cries like a sissy girl, I will post it on YouTube for all to see. :-)

Then we needed to be strong emotionally. You feel like there is a special place in hell for you when you have to look at a 3 year old child and tell them that they can't drink out of your water bottle.  Or when you see their head covered in colonies of lice, and their scalp bleeding and covered in scabs.  Or when you have to take the ball (or crayons, or frisbees, or bubbles or bible story book, etc) away from anyone because it is time to pack up and go home, and if you leave it with them some older kid will probaly beat then up and take it away.  Or when you sit in a class and hear that of the 9 moms there, only 2 or 3 have toothpaste in their houses because, in their words, 'if I have money, I buy rice for my children'.  Or when you take a look at the whold group of children and know that any of them might be but one bacterium away from a fatal case of dysentery - something you have never even had to give a thought to as you raised your own children...The list goes on and on, but this week, we all needed to be strong, and we all needed to be brave.  And until today, I took it like a man!  And now that it is winding down, I have no strong or brave left.  I am not sad - I am just empty.  So, I sit in my room and sob and blog, hoping that I can convey all that this week has meant, and knowing without a doubt that I will fail miserably.

So, now that you have all had a great dose of Debbie Downer...I am going to try to explain the joy that comes with the title of this post.  This village now has clean safe drinking water!  All praise and glory to God in heaven - I pray so hard that this will mean so many good things for this community.  I posted a pic on my facebook of the first drops of clean water I saw come out of the pipe, but of course they are not posting for me here.  Such an amazing moment.  So very proud of our drill team for coming here, letting themselves be bossed around, spewed on, seared by the sun, taxed beyond their wildest dreams to give this gift to this comnunity in Jesus' name.  But, I have asked my husband, the one who heard God's calling to do this and led this amazing group of folks here have the last word about the well.  From Rob Anderson;

"Today was day 4 at the drill site. Due to a couple small issues on previous days we are now a little behind schedule. With freshly charged batteries we attempted to start the compressor to flush and develop the well. It did not start! So off went Adrian for batteries, but since they are so expensive he bought jumper cables...it worked! So the rest of the day was spent developing the well and cleaning up the work site. The schedule also allowed plenty of time to visit with the residents and play with the ninos! Late in the day we made the forms and set the pump head in place. We watched the local men, Santo, David, Jose mix concrete in a "volcano" on the ground...pretty cool. The highlight for me came when my team mates asked me to set the plaque. Observations: Jim McDaniel is a man worth knowing...an encouraging heart and a tireless worker. I am very out of shape (again) and vow to change this. I will never take any of the little things; water, health, home, clothes, vocation, air conditioning, and so on for granted! Happiness and joy can be found in any circumstance...even extreme poverty. Finally, I want to thank my Northside family for their generosity! I cannot begin to tell you the feelings that I experienced when I saw those words..."a cup of water in Jesus' name. This well donated by Northside Church of Christ!"

And since we had technical difficulties yesterday and didn't get to hear from Theresa Turner (a truly amazing teacher) here are her thoughts:

Today was Day 3 of our Living Water Mission trip. Our Hygiene team of 4 women have taught Hygiene lessons on germ transmission, dental hygiene, and nutrition as well as Bible stories that teach about the love that Christ has for everyone. The first day about 20 children that live in and around the Village where the well is being drilled attended our classes. Today we said "hasta mañana" (until tomorrow) to about 55 children. In addition to teaching, we spend 1-2 hours just playing with the children. The people of the village live in extreme poverty. Toys like balls, frisbees, and jump ropes as well as playdoh and bubbles provide excitement because of the rarity of these kinds of toys in the village. The children and parents that we have had the absolute privilege of spending 5 days with have touched my heart in so many ways. They greet us each morning lined up along the road before we even get out of the van. They enthusiastically offer to carry our supplies, backpacks, chairs, and anything else we have to carry. They put their hands in ours calling us "mama", "hermana" (sister), and "prima" (cousin). How blessed I am to have had the honor of spending time with these precious little ones - it's a week I will never forget."

I thank Rob, Theresa, and all the other guest bloggers for their help. And, special thanks to Dan for all his tech support and videos. Please enjoy a couple of more:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W0wTgj4JFQw&feature=youtube_gdata_player

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fm8br7Lp3LQ&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Tomorrow, we will finish up, and there will be a dedication ceremony at the site.  It is quite possible that Dan and I will not make it, so we will look to the others there to take lots of pictures and give lots of hugs for us.  So until, tomorrow:

May my steps be worship, may my thoughts be praise, may my words, bring honor to Your name.