I Live Like a Queen

I did a good amount of griping last week.

I know I live in a third world country, but I still expect water to magically flow through the pipes when I turn on the faucet. If I have pipes, shouldn’t water come through them? If there is a backup tank of water right next to my apartment, shouldn’t it work? If it is 95 degrees out, can’t I at least shower and flush my toilet and wash my hands? There are ants and cockroaches taking over my house. Can’t I at least wash my dishes and the counter? I don’t live out in the middle of nowhere, I told myself. My apartment is next to a main highway. There should be water.

I definitely said those things. Probably multiple times. Probably in the morning when I was already hot and sweaty and knew there would be no refreshing shower to start my day or to come home to at the end of the day.

It was during one of those hot and tired and unclean feeling moments when a Nicaraguan lady told me how five years ago a water pipe got damaged by her house. Five years later, still no running water. Nobody has come to fix it. Her family carries water from a couple of streets over to fill up water jugs they keep at their house. That shouldn’t have to happen, I thought. As if hearing me, she told me that this happens all over the country. Most people don’t have running water. For most it is hard work just to be clean.

Sigh.

I know these things; I’ve seen it.  Everyone knows it. Life is hard, everyday, for so many people around the world. 

“I know about people in Africa,” she told me next. “They have it worse. They walk miles to get water. Children starve to death. I don’t like walking to get water, but I have it good. I live like a queen. I thank God everyday because I live like a queen.”

This conversation has circled through my mind quite a few times this week. There were some guilty feelings, of course, followed by the ugh, I've been very entitled and North American again. But I know it isn’t that simple. Poverty doesn't turn people into thankful machines. The poor and rich and everyone in between struggle with contentment and thankfulness and dealing with life’s little problems. Running water or buckets of water, Africa or Nicaragua or the United States, it doesn’t matter. We struggle, we complain, we wish our problems would disappear. Nevertheless, the whole situation bugged me. 

One of my room moms came in last week to spruce up my classroom door for springtime. Spring doesn't actually exist here, but we like to pretend that we have four seasons and decorate accordingly. The door served as the reminder that I needed.

Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth. (Psalm 98:4)

I want to do that. I really want to do that. It is normal to be frustrated when the water doesn’t work. However, I know that I did not make one joyful noise despite my frustration. In contrast, “I thank God everyday because I live like a queen” was a joyful noise.

Here's to a new week. My goal is to make a joyful noise. 

Flying Ants

Imagine it's a hot day, about 95 degrees. Your house hasn't had running water for days, and you aren't necessarily hitting the definition of "clean". You've had a good, but long day at work. Once you arrive at your car, you set down your heavy bags in the seat next to you, get out your keys, and think about how refreshing it will feel when the cold blast of air conditioner will hit you. You turn the air conditioner nob and are surprised when you are hit in the face, not with cold air, but with dozens of flying ants. Ants that are now crawling over your body, face, and hair and are turning you into a driving hazard on the already hectic roads of Managua.

I found myself in this situation just a day or two ago.

It was mildly unpleasant to say the least. However, it did cause the light bulb to go off in my head. For the past week or so I had been covered in ants when I got home from school. I couldn't figure out where they were coming from. First I assumed it was from my desk that I use at school. Then I decided there must be some food crumbs in my car that were attracting ants. Neither of those theories really added up because I couldn't find a group of ants in either of those places.

When I got blasted in the face by those ants that fine sunny afternoon, I remembered all the times in the past week when I had turned on my AC and assumed it was little pieces of debris and dust that were hitting my body. It is the dry season after all, and every inch of every surface is covered by dust. Now I know better. I haven't been showering with running water lately, or even dust, but ants.

And so my adventures with ants continue. 

In slightly related car news, I am finally getting four brand new tires today for my van. I am hoping this will solve all of my flat tire issues. For those of you who are counting, I think I am on flat tire number 14!

My Earthquake Fail

If you want to know what not to do if an earthquake happens in the middle of the night, follow my example.

Here's what happened. It was late Saturday night/early Sunday morning. I was fast asleep, having some psycho nightmare. My sleep abruptly ended. I thought I was still in the nightmare, so my first thought was that there was a murderer in my bedroom. I sat up, looked around. No murderer. Then it hit me: - my bed is shaking like crazy, my dresser is pounding against the wall - this is an earthquake. Sitting there in my bed, in a weird nightmare/half sleep/who-knows-where mindset, it didn't even cross my mind to do something. There were no thoughts of taking cover under something sturdy or making a dash for the front door. I just sat there in my bed, heart pounding, trying to imagine how much it would hurt when the ceiling fell on me. I would be lying if I said I wasn't quite terrified.

I am not sure why I freaked out, except that it was in the middle of the night, and I had had a horrifying dream. When there have been tremors during the day (although I admit I have never felt one that strong), I always assume it is no big deal. During my moment of frozen fear in the middle of the night, my roommate had already jumped out of bed, crouched in a door frame, and later walked into the hallway, ready to go outside. Next door, my neighbor was contemplating whether to hide under her whole bed or just under the mattress. Some neighbors down the way snatched their kids out of bed and ran outside. Some people managed to sleep though the whole thing, which means they must be very heavy sleepers. That was no small amount of shaking going on.

After the tremor stopped, I saw my neighbor turn her light on next door, which inspired me to turn my light on in some sort of "I'm alive! Did you feel that earthquake?" Morse Code-like signal. That made me feel a little better. The aftershock came next, but the tremor wasn't as bad as the first. My body didn't want to sleep after that, but after some struggle, I fell into a couple of earthquake inspired dreams. I was relieved when my alarm went off and the world seemed normal again.

The earthquake was a 6.4 on Richter scale, taking place a little off the Pacific coast of Nicaragua, about 99 miles northwest from Managua. Looking back, I see that my reaction was ridiculous. Why didn't I do anything? Why didn't I get out of my bed?! Thankfully, the tremor we felt here wasn't any bigger and did no damage. I will let that be my practice run; next time that happens in the middle of the night, I will NOT just sit there.

The good news is that I can reenact this story to my students tomorrow, and they will LOVE it.