Today I am going write about my first trip out of the USA to the lovely Nicaragua back in 2013.
The trip opened my eyes to a new culture and people, one entirely different and special. I was there to help the people living in Nicaragua. What I didn't expect was how much they would help and change me.
My group arrived at a small, bustling airport in mid-July. We had flown in a straight line down from Minnesota, stopping at Florida before heading out over the ocean. After grabbing our luggage, we met our translators, who led us to our transportation. A blast of sticky humidity met me upon exiting the airport. At the curb sat a bus, not yellow, but decked out in all the colors of the rainbow swirled into varying patterns and designs. I nervously climbed the few narrow steps into the bus and took a seat close to the front with a few friends. As the bus started moving, we swayed back and forth and laughed. The hot, brown and gray duct-taped seats of the un-air-conditioned bus stuck to our sweaty thighs!
We pulled out of the lot into the chaos of Managua, the capital of Nicaragua. I was surprised everywhere I looked. Where I had expected desert or a rainforest, there was a town not unlike the one's at home.The road was a blur of sounds and colors. Palm trees divided lanes of traffic and cars weaved back and forth. As I would soon find out honking is not frowned upon, but used to notify other drivers when passing. Advertisements for phone companies, food items, and appliances plastered on looming billboards. Underneath were simple businesses of faded colors and gated doors. And the trash. Trash covered the streets and sidewalks; it filled every crevice and flew across the street in an angry breeze.
As we drove deeper into Nicaragua, the roads became rugged and the buildings pulled apart from each other. We ate green mangos soaked in vinegar and sang songs out the windows to the Nicaraguans walking by.
We stayed at an orphanage, Casa Bernabe, in the town of Puerto Cabezas. There were dorms in walking distance from the kids for us to settle into.
From our home base at Casa Bernabe, we spread out to do missions work in the refugee area of Nueva Vida. In Nueva Vida we served at a feeding center where over 100 kids came each day for a meal. I loved playing with the children that lived there. Their eyes were kind and a smile was always on their faces.
On the way back from doing missions work, many of my group members cried. I didn't. And I couldn't figure out why.
Eventually I realized that I wasn't crying because I didn't pity them. More than anything, I respected them. I looked at the Nicaraguans at Nueva Vida and Casa Bernabe and I saw happiness, joy, and thankfulness. What I learned from my visit to Nicaragua is that it is not beneficial to even try to put myself in their shoes. I cannot imagine living their life as much as they could not understand living mine. We are different, the Nicaraguans and I. Yet, we are also the same.
These people had next to nothing, but they were filled with love.
Now I don't know if I made any impact in Nicaragua, but my experiences there led me to become the person I am today.
The question I found was not: how can I help Nicaragua be more like America? It was: how can I make America more like Nicaragua. A country full of love among wrong; a place where people are thankful for their lives; a place where the children's smiles are full of hope.
I learned these things from Nicaragua. Nicaragua surprised me by giving me more than I could give in return. Thank you.
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