COMMUNITY INTEGRATION- At Last

Let’s back track to a year ago in Nicaragua, January 20, 2010. I wake up in Managua for the first time, lying in the bottom bunk sweating profusely. With 23 other soon to be Peace Corps Trainees I wonder what one earth I have got myself into. I don’t speak Spanish. I don’t want to be a way from my friends for two and half years. I like hot running water. At 6 am I decide it’s a good time to get up, not too conspicuous. In fact, maybe I should take a run around the compound Peace Corps has put us up in? Get my blood flowing? Get ready? As I run the loop the guard at the front gate yells out, ¨Buenos Dias.¨ I yell back ¨Buena Dia,¨ check that out, I’m speaking Spanish.

Present, January 16, 2011. I’m walking down to the local fritanga in downtown Jinotega. An enchilada, some gallo pinot and a maduro sound like a great way to end the day. I can plop myself down on my front steps, eat dinner and maybe play some games with the neighbor kids. I get there and the woman running the street barbeque stand says, ¨your usual?¨ Why yes, my usual! I’m walking home one hand in my pocket on hand holding on to a black plastic bag full of some good Nicaraguan street food. A child runs by and says, ¨adios Lorena.¨ I pass an old man on the street and stop to talk. He asks why my boyfriend isn’t with me. Because, if that white boy doesn’t watch out he will have to date me, he just needs to find a way to be 30 years younger. If only right? When I finally get home, sit on my front steps and pull out a fork, Badher, my next door neighbor, pops his head out the window. ¨Lorena, are you going to play with me?¨ Obviously his six year old self can’t see that I’m eating and that is higher on my list of things to do then play ball. I tell him to sit down next to me and tell me about his day in the market.