Speaking Goat at 3AM

While I was busy trying to permanently kick out Carl [that's right, I named my parasite. He was male, of course], our director presented us with the possibility of living in Cedro Galan [our rural community] for a week. Admittedly I wasn't super pumped about being away from the Manna house while Carl and I were having our dispute, but hey, when in Nicaragua, live like the Nicaraguans do!

To my glee, "Lalo" agreed to host me in their little red house. "Lalo" is the combination of Laura and Oscar who have an amazingly sassy and smart 7 year old named Laurita. Laurita and I, already friends from hanging out at her mom's English class, looked forward to being sisters for the week, playing hours of "ochos locos," drawing pictures for her parents and giggling over telenovelas [Spanish soap operas]. Laura, ever the concerned mother, specially made me food-- boiled carrots and potatoes-- because my stomach couldn't take anything fried [stupid Carl]. While I greatly appreciated her care, I started looking for other food outlets after my second breakfast of carrots.

My host family lived very simply, but happily. Smaller than my parents' bathroom, their home had dirt floors and two walls that divided the space into two bedrooms and a kitchen/living/dining area. We watched TV, prepared meals, and chatted in their four red plastic chairs, the only places to sit. The shower was a spicket with black tarp around it, which, due to the papaya and banana trees around the house, lent the feeling of bathing in the jungle. The mosquitoes swarming around me added to that feeling.

Although I knew it going in, the most difficult part of my experience was the toilet, a latrine [which we shared with four other families] about 30 yards from the house. This meant that if I needed the restroom during the night, I had to find my flashlight and toilet paper, unbolt the lock, tip-toe through two yards and pray that I didn't wake the dogs. Needless to say, the entire area knew when I went to the bathroom. If they didn't hear my entrance for some reason, I quickly remedied the situation by yelping every time I opened the latrine door. Seems that there was a goat who found it amusing to bleat at the gringa trying to juggle flashlight, toilet paper and the lock to the door.

At the end of the week, Laura told me that she and Oscar are saving money from his construction work and her small business selling children's clothes [she's a member of Manna's first microlending program] to install a toilet that flushes inside their home. I told her that I would bake a cake to celebrate the day.

My new realization: indoor plumbing is a marvelous thing.