Castrations, Volcanoes, and Mountain Paradises: A Nica Week

Sorry for the lack of updates folks, but the past week and half has been insanely busy with a whole bunch of training fun. Last weekend we left Los Rincones for a couple of days to check out Rancho Ebenezer, a gorgeous self-sufficient farm and agricultural training center outside the small town of Niquinohomo. Over two days we learned everything you could ever want to know about minor farm animals, including chickens, ducks, rabbits, goats, sheep, and of course, pigs. From feeding rabbits, milking goats, creating worm boxes, vaccinating chickens, and realizing how absolutely terrible ducks smell, we truly got our hands dirty as we learned the ins and outs of small-scale animal production. But I have to say the most memorable animal experience I had was with the chanchos, or pigs. Over the course of two days, I helped castrate piglets, inject vaccinations into juvenile and adult pigs, and kicked away over-curious porkers as I cleaned what must've been a metric shit-ton of pig poo from their pens. I've heard that pigs are astonishingly intelligent- hopefully they're not smart enough to remember my face, or else a whole generation of vaccinated and testicle-less pigs will come of age in Rancho Ebenezer with a blind hatred for gringos.

On Sunday of last weekend, our whole group of 44 aggies and small business trainees went to check out the crater of Masaya Volcano. After a quick session at the visitor's center, we piled into trucks and began the climb to the peak, passing boulder-strewn fields and lava-rippled rock formations. Once at the summit, the gaping crater stretched before us, as we peered deep into the bowels of the earth, coughing and spitting from the plumes of sulfuric gas that rose up from the depths. I began to understand why the Spanish conquistadores of the 1500s thought they had found the entrance to Hell. It wasn't a far stretch to imagine a demon flying out of the steaming crater and wreaking terror on the countryside. For this reason, the Spaniards built the Bobadilla Cross, named for the priest that risked life and limb to examine the volcano's crater, on top of the crater's edge. After a quick hike to the cross, we climbed the ridge to the volcano's other large caldera, which has long been dormant and whose sheer edges now teem with lush vegetation. From this vantage point high above the surrounding forests, I was able to see clear across the country I'll call home for the next two years. To the south, massive Mombacho Volcano stood guard over the city of Granada, which was dwarfed by the ocean-like Lake Nicaragua behind it. To the west, laid Nicaragua's central plateau, where Masatepe and our host families had a view to the volcanic peak we now stood on. Off to the east stretched the flat cattle lands of the Chontales and Boaco departments. And to the north sat steamy Managua, sprawled along the shore of its eponymous lake, behind which rose the northern highlands of Matagalpa, Esteli and beyond. As an unabashed geography nerd, I really enjoyed this bird's-eye view over the terrain and topography of Nicaragua and I think it would be a great first day adventure for anyone that's coming to visit me (wink wink).

The next week our group of 21 aggies broke down into three smaller groups for Tech Week, a weeklong stay at a volunteer's site where we'd be getting even more hands-on experience. My group was lucky enough to be assigned to Micah's site way up in Jalapa, Nueva Segovia, just a spit away from the Honduran border. Because of the distance, my group had to split the trip up over two days and was put up in a hotel in Managua for the night. I never thought I'd be so happy to have a hot shower, use a flushing toilet, and watch English-language television. We even ordered Domino's pizza! It was almost perfect, except for the fact that the only thing on TV was the "Butterfly Effect" with Ashton Kutcher.

The next day, after hours of traveling higher and higher through the Nicaraguan highlands, we finally arrived in Jalapa. This part of the country was absolutely beautiful and completely unexpected. Once outside of Managua heading north, the mountains seem to stack higher and higher on top of each other, until every curve of the road brings a vista taken straight out of Jurassic Park. From Ocotal, the biggest city in Nueva Segovia, to Jalapa was 60 km of winding, brick-paved switchbacks that crossed rushing streams on narrow one-way bridges. Further and further we climbed into the rugged heart of the Central American isthmus, where Managua seemed as far away as Minneapolis. The banana trees and palm fronds of the lower altitudes soon disappeared, replaced by the pointy silhouettes of Ocote pines along the high ridgelines. I honestly did a double-take a few times, forgetting that I was in Central America and thinking I had somehow stumbled into the north woods of Maine.

Our week up north was a blur of learning, laughing, and seeing how volunteers actually lived in their sites and how they have helped the people in their communities. Over the course of three days we built an improved oven and stove made of adobe and brick, a drip irrigation system, a water pump, and one of the coolest things I've ever seen, a biodigestor. A biodigestor is quite simply a massive plastic bag, about the size of a pickup truck, that you fill with cow poop and put in a protected place in your backyard. Once the poo stew is a-cookin', methane gas is siphoned out of the bag through a series of pipes right to the kitchen stove, providing an extremely cheap, sustainable, and forest-friendly source of fuel. I was really impressed by the biodigestor concept, and I hope to build as many as I can in my community, especially if I'm in an area that has a surplus of cows and a dearth of firewood. We also talked to numerous local farmers about their techniques for diversifying their crops and how they cope with the floods, droughts, hurricanes, and pests that plague their corner of the country. On our last night, we were even invited to a real ranchero hoe-down in the hillside farmhouse next door. Between the cowboy hats, the local starfruit wine, and the eight to eighty-two year olds gettin' jiggy wit' it, it was a great farewell to the kind people of the Segovias.

After our time in Jalapa was over, we had two more days of training sessions in the rompin', stompin' cowboy town of Esteli. We also had our site fair there, where we learned about the various communities that are available to us and in which we will live and work for twenty-four months. While we were allowed to express our preferences for site assignment, I'm trying not to get my hopes up , to keep an open mind and make the best out of wherever I'm sent. I'll know by Tuesday of next week where I'll be, followed by a weeklong visit to meet my work counterpart and introduce myself to the community. With just four weeks left in training, the time has just flown by. In the blink of an eye I'll be swearing in as a full-fledged volunteer in Managua. Hope all is well with everyone at home, I'll be sure to keep you posted on my site assignment.