Wednesday, April 13, 2005

Getting Out of My Comfort Zone

Yesterday, something unusual happened at my school as the kids were lining up in the yard after lunch. Several of the students were staring in awe at the sky. I followed their eyes upward to see an immense B2 bomber (I had my kids Google it afterwards) flying silently, very low over our heads, looking like a giant bat. Without provocation, several of the kids began chanting "U.S.A! U.S.A.! U.S.A!" We went in to the classroom and as the kids researched the plane they had just seen, they realized that it was a bomber and began asking me why a bomber would be flying over the school. "We're not at war," they reasoned. I told them that we were, in fact at war, but there seemed to be the feeling that the war in Iraq was a distant reality and incongruous with seeing a weapon of mass destruction flying overhead. It made me sad to think that just a few years from now, these will be the children who will be sent to war.

It brought to mind my own experience with the reality of war, a subject I briefly touched upon in one of my old blogs, when I wrote about spending time abroad and how it helped open my eyes to the way our government manipulates public opinion. At the time, it was shocking for me to learn that the U.S. government was in the business of smuggling drugs in order to fund and illegally conduct not only war, but the worst kind of human rights abuses. This was all done in the name of protecting democracy from the threat of a tiny, economically impoverished nation that dared to embrace communism. Much has changed since that time, for better or worse, and I can only hope that most people nowadays are more or less aware that public opinion is under constant manipulation by those with access to mass media.



Anti U.S. imperialism mural in Leon, Nicaragua. The figure is a silhouette of Augusto Sandino , who is often villified in U.S. history books but was a national hero to the Nicaraguan working class, stomping Uncle Sam with his boot.

I've said that my time in Central America opened my eyes to the way our government operates, but it also opened my eyes in other, more profound ways. Twenty years ago, I traveled to Nicaragua on a work-study program for school, ostensibly to observe educational methods with a group of U.S. teachers. This was at the height of the Reagan administration, when the U.S. was waging a covert war against the Sandinista government of Nicaragua.

I went down to work at a school in Esteli, which is a village in the northern part of Nicaragua. There was still sporadic fighting going on, since we were near to the border of Honduras. Sometimes, we would be walking down a street and hear machine gun fire from a block or two away and we would immediately duck down and find a place to hide. Part of working at the school was the agreement that we were there to learn, but in exchange we would assist with the development of the community. For weeks before I left the U.S., I collected school supplies by asking for donations and raising money to purchase them. I brought these along with me and donated them to the school in Esteli and they were very much appreciated.

However, I quickly found that nothing in my relatively comfortable upbringing in the United States prepared me for the real and difficult task of daily living in a third world country, trapped in a state of war.


En Nicaragua, Jesus carga un fusil.
"In Nicaragua, Jesus carries a rifle."

Soon after I arrived in the village of Esteli, it became apparent that my education was of little use, when what was most needed were strong legs, arms and backs to do the heavy lifting and building for a neighborhood that, for the most part, lacked running water, plumbing and electricity. Since I had no construction skills, I was given the task of transporting bricks from the brickpile to a construction site on top of a hill. After my arms gave out and I dumped a wheelbarrow of bricks down the side of the hill, the foreman shuffled me from assignment to assignment, eventually realizing that I was pretty much unfit for manual labor. I remember them asking me, "what CAN you do?" I thought for a minute and responded that I could paint. They then gave me the task of painting seeds with the likeness of Augusto Sandino, which they made into necklaces and pins to sell.


Some of my handiwork.

The fact that I was bilingual in English and Spanish was also valuable, since they needed to translate documents. Happy to have found a skill I could use, I eagerly said I could do this, not realizing that the documents they most needed translated were repair manuals for truck engines and power generators. Of course, I didn't know the Spanish words for such technical terms as "flywheel" or "spark plug," so I was kind of a washout in that as well.


Children of Esteli.


The family I lived with, in front of
the house I stayed in, Esteli, Nicaragua.


As poor as these people were and despite the difficulty of their circumstances, I found in their spirit a warmth and generosity that I'd rarely experienced before. I learned by watching their daily example that what was important in life was not wealth or material possessions, but purpose and resourcefulness. Being in Nicaragua at that time also allowed me to witness firsthand some of the effects of war in a way that was not sanitized for my consumption. I'm certain that the people of Esteli gave more to me than I gave to them.

All of this came to my mind yesterday afternoon as I watched my students go from the initial excitement of seeing the bomber, to pride in the might of U.S. military power, and then to confusion over what it means to be at war.

5 comments:

Jenny Lens said...

Alice,
You continue to amaze me with your amazing story telling abilities, to combine analysis with heartfelt emotion. Yes we are at war and isn't it amazing people don't realize it? This is what Amerika is now about. It's not only that the children you teach will be the ones carrying the weapons of destruction, but gas prices will continue to soar, health will continue to decline, inflation and taxes will continue to rise while our wages and decent jobs decline. Nice future? Didn't we sing about that and warn people: no future?

Do I sound over pessimistic or realistic? I don't know.
jenny lens

Anonymous said...

I think Jenny Lens hit the nail on the head. You managed to put a very human face on what is essentially a political story. But then, the personal is political, no?

Great writing, keep it up!

Paul

Lee Skull said...

Man what a story. Sad to know these kids you teach today will have to grow up in a world so full of hate and rage. The
Devil says we are fighting terrorist.
I worry about some punk with a gun trying to take my life away then a plane
hitting a building or trying to invade the states. Very Scary. Very True.
If you don't know Rodolfo Gonzales
Died Tues. Theres this picture with him walking and in the background theres a
saying on the wall that reads To kill is
bad enough. But to kill your Gente is to kill La Raza. They say we are war but in reality we have our own war here. Every
neigborhood has it's own battlefield. And of coarse The only person that wins
is death himself. Cheers to you Alice.

Lee Skull

Anonymous said...

Outstanding blog. I've visited before this, but I just had to comment on this one. It's amazing to me that we ARE a country at war, with perhaps 150,000 troops stationed in Iraq alone and the threat of war in Syria and Iran looming, but you'd never know it from watching the T.V. We are truly a nation in denial.

Keep fighting the good fight, Ms. Bag!

Anonymous said...

just watch fahrenheit 911, but i agree, we are in such denial about this war, when my little sister asked me, little baby's die too? and i said yes, she didn't understand. i told her nobody understands.