WOMEN: in factories, campo, and cooperative

I have met so many remarkable people within the past few weeks. Most of these people represent one of the most marginalized groups of people in the history of the world: women.

Confusion.
A couple weeks ago, we had the opportunity to visit a free trade zone near Managua, where 150 companies produce their goods and services, employing almost 74,000 Nicaraguans.  All of the products produced and services provided (it's not just maquilas/factories in the industrial park--there are call centers, agricultural sects, among others as well) are exported.  The only thing that remains in Nicaragua is the employment and the small amount of money given to the workers which they call a "salary"...minimum salary within the zone is $123 per month (the "basket of living," aka the amount it takes to buy necessities of food, shelter, etc. is around $400 per month).  This is the lowest in all Central American free trade zones.  We were concerned also about the working conditions as well, considering the rumors we've heard in the past about free trades having pretty horrible conditions and low labor rights.  We had the chance to visit one of the factories, and I was a bit surprised by it.  We walked into the florescent-lighted building where hundreds of women (and a handful of men) were at sewing machines and tables beneath hundreds of fans.  They were assembling North Face and Colombia jackets.  The conditions under which they were working were not appalling, but probably not the most comfortable either. We were told that this factory was about in the middle regarding if it's "better or worse" in working conditions and labor rights.

I was very torn after this visit. These women make next to no money...but it's still something--it's still a little bit of money to bring home to their families each night. And even though their working conditions might be poor and they might not have many rights as workers, they still have jobs. As one of the men from the free trade commission told us--even if they feel that their dignity is insulted, these women are not going to stop providing a salary for their families. There is no excuse for the need of such low-paid and uncomfortable employment. But what else are these women supposed to do to provide for their hungry children? Having to choose to be unemployed or work under undesirable conditions--what a horrible, yet inevitable, consequence of a ridiculously capitalist and consumerist world.

Inspiration and beauty.
Last week we spent three days in the BEAUTIFUL mountains, living in the Sontule community on the Miraflor natural reserve (just a few miles away from the city of Esteli). We had the chance to meet with an incredible group of women.  They are part of a women's cooperative working with many projects in their community, such as vegetable gardens, coffee production, teaching English, tourism, and gender rights. These women have truly combated the machismo (essentially, the  inequality between men and women) that is embedded in Nicaragua culture. Before organizations like this began, one kind-hearted Dona Lucia told us, the women would be "living poverty" in their house.  Now, rather than staying in house, taking care of the kids and cooking, these women have learned their rights and empowered themselves and now are truly developing themselves, their families, and their communities.

My host mom was the president of the women's cooperative.  During our many hours of hanging out with the family in the kitchen, she shared with us her story of empowerment and learning, and how as she became more aware of her rights as a woman, her marriage really changed.  Her husband was very different during the first few years of marriage, she told us.  But now after both husband and wife have learned the inequalities that fill so many Latin American families, both share in all the responsibilities of the house.  Our host dad spent just as much time over the stove as our host mom.

Anger.
Just this morning, we visited a development center near Ciudad Sandino, the poorest urban area in Nicaragua. In addition to seeing and hearing about so many great development projects that are truly arising from the people, we got to meet with another cooperative.  These 15 women and 3 men have been working for almost four years to organize themselves and to build a processing plant for cotton. They have even built the huge stone building with their own hands and sweat...with no pay. They remain an organized group, but have no salary to bring home to their families for Christmas. Sadly, if it weren't for the greed of foreigners, they would be a lot farther along in their process.

Awhile back, they hired a company from South Carolina to help them find someone from which to buy spinning equipment in order to make yarn from the cotton. They found a retailer in Venezuela, placed their order, and paid the $150,000 down payment. A little while later, their order arrives...but it's faulty equipment and not what they have paid for. Now, they are in the process of getting justice and hopefully getting some decent equipment, but the company that they worked with has jipped many other clients and is on the verge of bankruptcy. Until this issue gets resolved, they continue to wait...and continue to have nothing to bring home to their families.

The sadness lying behind the women's smiles was painful to see. I could tell that this empowered group had truly become a family. They have worked next to each other for so long. Why do they keep going? They have hope. Hope that soon they will actually be able to see more results from their continuous hard work. They also have pride. They have been able to construct a beautiful building...now all they need is the equipment to actually allow them to start working with the cotton.

I am so frustrated at the selfishness that someone can have and the pain and sadness a company's greed has brought to this beautiful and hardworking group of people.

Perseverance and real change.
The women of Nicaragua--from my host sister to our professors to Pastor Katia...to the leaders of feminist and woman's movements who have visited our classes--continue to inspire me. I have often asked myself, how much change can actually occur when so much injustice is embedded in the culture, in the political systems, even in the families? But these women, by combating machismo, learning and upholding their rights, and speaking out with their own voices, have shown me what true empowerment means and that change really can happen.

History in the Making

“…we come into the world with a ball of yarn to weave the fabric of our lives. One cannot know exactly what the tapestry will look like, but at a certain moment one can look back and say: Of course! It couldn’t have been any other way! That shiny thread, that stitching couldn’t have led anywhere else!” (Gioconda Belli's beautiful words that I think are a great take on each of our own histories.)

History. The word makes me cringe. In my three and a half years of college, I’ve managed to avoid any classes with the ‘HIST’ header, but now I find myself in a history class. (And, on top of that, a political science class, too. Yuck!)

Before I get more into how I am dealing with these adventures into an untrekked territory of my academic self, let me share with you a bit of my recent history. Last week, my friend Laura and I spent over 45 hours on buses, met tons of interesting people, and officially visited all the Central American countries (well, except Belize…but depending on who you ask, Belize can be part of either the Caribbean or Central America). After leaving El Salvador, and passing through Honduras and Nicaragua, we arrived in San Jose, Costa Rica, where we spent a day and a half. We went to the national symphony, which is by far one of the highlights of my trip; found a really sweet diner down a happening, NYC-feel strip of shops and hundreds of pedestrians; and spent a good hour and a half at a local souvenir shop, talking with the workers. Besides that, we did a lot of hanging out in the TicaBus hotel and getting ripped off by taxi drivers. (Costa Rica is expensive!) San Jose was a beautiful city. A shorter bus drive later, we found ourselves in Los Balsas, a small more-rural community near Santiago, Panama. Laura spent two months in this community some four years ago, so we were privileged to have a connection with her former host family who oh-so graciously allowed us to stay with them for four days. It is a great community, where youth spend their evenings hanging out at the cancha (basketball court), your thoughts are your only privacy, and, at this time of the year, everyone prepares for the upcoming independence celebration. I'm glad I got to spend most of the trip in this smaller, non-touristy part of Central America. It was more like our weekend rural homestays during our study program rather than a vacation, but it gave me yet another perspective of life in Central America. We did manage to spend a day and a half in Panama City before our 25-hour bus ride up to Managua, Nicaragua. I got to see the famous Panama Canal and some beautiful sites of this unique and interesting city, full of run-down apartments and eye-catching skyscrapers on the peninsula.

We arrived in Nicaragua on Sunday, where we settled into our temporary guesthouse/CGE office building, located just a block away from the president’s house. On Monday, we began our classes. We've only had class for three days, but let me tell you--Nicaragua is the perfect place to (confuse yourself) study history or politics. I have already gained a new appreciation and interest for both topics. Nicaragua is full of a complex and unique history that angers me, makes me laugh, and intrigues me all at the same time. Nicaragua has a president who comes from the revolutionary political party, but whose party wouldn’t call him “revolutionary”; is currently struggling against Costa Rica for river rights; is the second poorest nation in the Western hemisphere with one of the highest literacy rates; has found ballots in dumps during election time; consists of two totally different cultures of very distinct geographical and social characteristics (the Caribbean  and Pacific coasts); and has spent many years fighting against, compromising with, and accepting and refusing money from the United States. And this is just the beginning of the many things I’ve jotted down in my notes—the beginning of my attempt to understand this complicated and unique small triangle of a nation.

We are staying in the capital city of Managua. On Tuesday we took a small tour where we saw Lake Managua, the national cathedral and palace, low-income housing projects, and some other parks and monuments. From the recent rains, the lake is terribly flooded; we were told that it will take at least two years for the water to recede to normal level. Who knows how many houses were wiped out not only here in the city, but the whole country. Managua is not like any city I’ve ever visited. The presence of many trees and two in-city lakes add to the city’s beauty. It lacks organization, and it’s normal to see a nice building right next to some very poorly built shacks (or tents) that serve as people’s homes. Directions are not typical—you give directions with the terms arriba (“up,” or where the sun rises), abajo (“down,” where the sun sets), al lago (toward the lake), or south. Also, there are not many tall buildings—the tallest I’ve seen is maybe six stories high—because of the earthquake in 1972. Managua is still a city under construction—structurally, socially, and politically.

Our group is living in a very lively neighborhood, or barrio, called Batahola. The people here are the sweetest! The small house where Laura and I are staying houses a small pulperia (more or less an in-house store), and the house is probably just a bit smaller than my house in Rock Rapids (which is not very big…we fit five people in it comfortably, but any more would have been difficult). But here our family consists of eleven people, including Laura and me. Our host mom runs the store and takes care of everyone and our host dad drives taxi. Their four children live here, too, and one son’s wife and two kids and one daughter’s daughter, too. And to prove just how small of a world this is, the daughter studied for a year in Council Bluffs, Iowa. It’s a pretty happening place—people stopping by the store all the time, kids always playing or the baby totting around in her walker, someone always enjoying a show or a game on the TV. I went walking this morning, just to find myself being greeted and waved at by all our neighbors. We live across from a basketball court/soccer field and the cultural center, where classes in English, music, painting, jewelry-making, cooking, and other things are taught. Although Managua can be dangerous (and I’m aware of that), I feel safe in this neighborhood and there are always people around, watching out for each other.

Our days this week have looked like this: the bus picks us up at the cultural center and brings us to the Center first thing in the morning, we have class in the morning, eat lunch at the Center, take some time in the afternoon to study and use internet, return to Batahola around five, chill with our host families, eat supper, do homework, sleep. The conversations and interactions that fill our time in class, with each other, and with our families are priceless.

I am falling in love with yet another country. Nicaragua’s people are beautiful, intelligent, and very warm. People keep asking me how Nica compares to Guatemala and El Salvador, but honestly, all I can say in regards to comparison is that it’s different. I’ve loved all three countries, and all in different ways. I am truly embarking on something new: exploring topics, questions, and themes I’ve never explored, seeing “poverty” in a new way, and learning more about politics than I’ve ever wanted to learn. But beautifully, I am gaining a deep appreciation for politics, history, and their complexities, and I am become ever more exposed to the thread that binds every topic together.