Buxton School - Williamstown, Massachusetts

This year’s all-school trip took students and faculty to Nicaragua. The following student reflections of the 10-day trip are taken from the trip booklet and from students’ self-evaluations from recent report conferences. The topics for the trip were Activism, Artisanry, Arts and Culture, Coffee, Ecotourism, Government, Health, Liberation Theology, and Murals. A final group continues to work on a documentary of the trip; you can view a trailer here.

This year’s trip was life changing. There are so many things to be said and I am currently writing a memoir of the experience because it was so powerful to me. My group was fortunate to experience a series of beautiful people. What was amazing about the people of Nicaragua was the warmth and joy that they all had. From Elena to the team, to the artisans whose workshops and homes we visited, we were welcomed with open arms and joyous hearts. Aside from learning all about how devastatingly the United Sates has impacted many people and how that information remains hidden within our country, I was so moved by the stories told and so motivated to dedicate my life to fighting injustice.

The all-school trip to Nicaragua was nothing but inspiring for me. I was so lucky to be a part of Artisanry, something I’m very interested in right now and for my future. Being able to see the artisans there do what I’m trying to learn how to do was what inspired me the most. The way I’ve learned how to throw clay is so much easier than the way they have to do it. While I was with them, I got the opportunity to work with clay the way they do, and even though it was difficult, it was in a way more fun for me and I was much more proud of my work afterwards.

Overall, trip was very eye-opening to someone who never even sees in the United States poverty and lifestyles such as these in Nicaragua. The people who met with us were very warm and open with their story. The most memorable part for us was the trip to Tipitapa, a settlement for those who have been displaced. The conditions were definitely not meant for humans to live in: incredibly hot, dusty and dry. Nevertheless, welcoming us with open arms, the women we met were joyous and excited that we made the trip to their home. The fact that these people who have close to nothing welcomed a group of wealthy North Americans into their community with joy and excitement, illustrated the beauty of the Nicaraguan people that we grew to understand, and we are still overwhelmed by this immense love that we experienced.

Upon entering the airspace of Nicaragua, I could tell this was a complete change of scenery. Flying at night above the United States usually has miles and miles of brilliant bright lights covering all the terrain below. Once we entered Nicaragua, I peered out of the plane window and saw nothing but darkness below… During the ride, I surveyed the scenery: razor wire, broken glass, and rusted nails atop walls. Trash was scattered along the roadsides and alleyways, and I could smell it being burned somewhere off in the distance. There were tons and tons of stray dogs (I counted over 250) and there was dust everywhere. This whole scene was in some way what I expected; it was my stereotypical view of a third world country. Later on in my trip, I learned that about 80% of the population lived in poverty while 40% of that 80% lived on less than one dollar a day, which translates into about $20; a soda costs about $15.

I didn’t grow up in the safest neighborhood, or have all the money. I passed by poverty every day, although I was too young to realize it. I always knew something wasn’t right about the man sleeping on the streets, and people secretly passing things on the corners. But as I grew up I moved out of it. I still am not the richest. But then I went to Nicaragua, a place where the poverty rate is so high. I had never seen anything so bad. Children walked up to me and tapped my arm asking if I would just given them a coin. Children my sisters’ ages were asking me for change. It hurt already to know that I would not be able to communicate with them. And do you know the look on their faces when I said no? They just went to the next person as if they had heard my response a million time before.

An important human rights activist at the march in Managua on International Women’s Day asked our group, “Have you heard about Sandino?” He was pointing at the silhouette printed onto his baseball cap. This was a silly question; it’s probably impossible to go to Nicaragua and not hear about Sandino. It’s also hard to avoid seeing him…

In a way, it is no longer relevant who Sandino actually was, and accordingly the image plastered onto so many surfaces in the cities of Nicaragua is stylized to the point of being a mere outline. It’s not a picture of Sandino, it’s a sign representing an idea—the idea that Nicaragua is a land of revolution, where the people have power and use it. The ubiquity of the silhouette influences outsiders’ sense of Nicaragua, and also the inhabitants’ sense of national character. With the revolutionary hero looming large and constantly over their lives, the people of Nicaragua are unable to forget him. 

When nine students and two faculty traveled to three different provinces, talked to 10 different organizations and four different individuals, marched in one international women’s day parade, and participated in a forum ruminating on one hundred years of a women’s movement, it was obvious how hegemonic the machismo culture, and patriarchy, still is.

What have women been fighting for in Nicaragua? What rights have been won in this monstrously patriarchal society? And if those rights aren’t protected—aren’t fought for—will they be lost?

It seems to me that there are certain dangers that lie in the aftermath of a “successful” political revolution. Nicaragua is living in the faint echo of a revolution. This echo resounds on t-shirts and tote bags and on billboards splattered with political slogans. But the reality of the country seems to show something different than a government and a people living by revolutionary standards. When asked if they felt that the government represented them and supported their efforts as humanitarian workers, every organization that we met, with the exception of the Sandinista Youth, said no.

The one thing I want to say is how much of an impact the muralist on the mountain had on me. With his little white curls surrounding his face and the way he talked in a language that hopefully I will be able to understand. It was my birthday the day I met this man and that meant a lot to me.

Maria Soledad was our translator in Nicaragua. We had a chance on the trip to hear her singing. Maria Soledad’s music is moving and touched my heart…She told us about her childhood when she lived in a house near the prison that the Somoza government used for political prisoners. She talked about the fear, the terror that were part of her life back then. They could take anyone without any reason to prison. She told us about the fear to return from school, and the fear to return home and to discover that one of the parents disappeared. After all these stories and her experiences, I listened to her songs. I looked at her and felt she is dealing with these difficulties and suffering without self-pity. On the contrary her song is full of hope and love. 

It was really cool to hold a ripened coffee bean and think about how this was just the beginning of a very long process of drying, roasting, packaging, shipping, grinding, and consuming. But now, looking back on the experience, it is kind of sad to think that so many established farms are resorting to tourism to make more money, but the poorer farmers cannot because they can’t afford to invest in something like that. I had a really great time in Nicaragua, but I feel that many of the farm experiences were a little bittersweet.

Visiting artists and artisans of Nicaragua was really a shock. They put so much effort and hard work into what they are selling, with not a lot of reimbursement. They spend their lives learning and improving their skills in order to pass them down to their kids and the rest of their family. It is a necessity in order for them to escape from poverty. This sad reality creates boundaries for what art can be for Nicaraguans. Rather than being fully a form of expression, it becomes muted by the need for money.

In the regions of Nicaragua where we traveled, small family farms that have cultivated diverse, organic agriculture are also starting to attract tourists. The beauty of these lands, the healthy (amazingly delicious) foods, the natural watersheds (and waterfalls!) that are protected as a result, and the animals—sloths, howler monkeys, guardabarranco birds—that are returning to the area are all draws. But the heart and foundation of this type of ago-eco-tourism begins with the sustainable farms themselves.

The main health determinant for Nicaraguans is not only the poverty, but also the lack of health education. Every year, millions of people die from preventable disease, many of whom suffer from diarrhea and upper respiratory infections. There are health centers and some hospitals working on offering free health service to people, all of them confronting the same issues, such as not having enough trained staff and financial resources for medical supplies.

For me, I wish I could have done something more profound and useful with my time than sitting down and listening to people, but to them the listening is what matters most. Their stories and lives, which go completely ignored by you and me every day, just the hour given up to hear their everyday lives makes all the difference. But the question I am stuck with is, if it helps them so much and means so much to them, then why do I feel so useless?

Call me callous, but in my opinion, the best thing we can do is just be grateful for what we have. They’re grateful in Nicaragua if they’ve got clean clothes to wear and food on the table. Here in the U.S. we’ve got hot water, incandescent lights, reliable plumbing, and more material goods than we know what to do with, and all the guilt in the world—whether it be expressed through “raising awareness,” clothing drives, saving water or electricity, studying broad or any other attempt at charity—is not going to fix the infrastructure of Nicaragua, Haiti, Darfur, Serbia, or any of the other countless countries in need of change. 

Liberation Theology was very wonderful, because the followers of it believed that they must liberate themselves from their bad state of living rather than bide their time until they can lounge in heavenly bliss. This means that the followers of Liberation Theology will actually fight for what they know is right, rather than just take it and expect a nice reward. There are many aspects of Liberation Theology that I won’t go into as much, but the fact that they make a stand to do what they need to do is really wonderful. What’s interesting is that somebody with a very privileged life would have a much harder time liberating themselves from much of anything.

It was certainly the most interesting all-school trip I’ve been on, which might not even be fair to say since it can’t really be compared to the others. I was in the Arts and Culture group. I really enjoyed it, because I think it was a topic that we were really able to form to fit our interests. We met with a lot of artisans, as well as people who just did interesting things, plain and simple. The coolest thing we did, and I think a lot of my group would agree with me, was going to see the rock sculptor. More than the fact that his sculptures were amazing, I was impressed by his way of life. It struck me just how simple he chose to be, and devoted himself completely to the sculptures and lived through them, in a way. 

We met such interesting people whose stories and lives made me re-evaluate myself, who I want to be, and what I want to do with myself.

Most of the people don’t ask for money or pity; they ask that we remember them, that we change the future. They tell us that we need to learn and vote and take pride in ourselves. Not to sit like a log but to take our lives and others into our hands, and say that we are able to do anything and everything, and know that we can change what is corrupt. But in order to do that, we need to know everything about ourselves, and everything about our government. I just wish there was a way to do it, and in a way so that it truly affects people.