Skipping town

Back in Canada on Christmas day most people are indoors due to the extreme cold. Stores close and you don't see many people around. I had never been in Nicaragua to see what the customs here are, but as we got closer to December 25th I started to see some differences. 

For one kids suddenly seem to have an unlimited arsenal of fireworks, which they set off continuously all week. Secondly everyone is drunk and roaming the streets. Although on the plus side the weather is absolutely gorgeous. When it rains its only for a few minutes, otherwise its sunny all day with a nice breeze coming off the lagoon to keep things from getting too hot.

Apparently the congregation here has made it their custom to skip town on Christmas day in order to avoid the chaos. On Christmas eve it seemed like every house was blasting reggae versions of every Christmas song at maximum volume all day. It even carried on all night, until 4:30 in the morning when I got up to go and catch the bus. 

We were taking the bus that goes to Rama, however we were getting off part way. Our destination was Rocky point, at a bible student's farm in the middle of the jungle. Away from all the drunks and fireworks. Since we weren't going the whole way the charge was only 10 Cordobas (40 cents). A short hike away from the road took us through a field of coconut trees, and then to the students farm house.

Coconut trees

Edward's Farm house

We spent the day doing not much of anything. A few of us did hike through the bush to the cow pen to see them being milked the old fashioned way, and also pasteurized the Nicaraguan way (not at all). Also we saw a monkey. We also got to see the family making coconut oil from scratch. One gallon requires about 40 coconuts, which need to be chopped open and grated by hand.

On the way to the cows

Monkey

 After lunch, at around 2:30 or 3 we felt it was time to leave. Mainly due to the reason that there was no bus to take us back and we needed to be in town before dark. So we decided to walk back to pearl lagoon. This was perhaps the longest distance I have ever walked, and this with a backpack full of fresh oranges. The walk took us through Haulover where most of the group lived, so seeing as we had plenty of daylight left by the time we arrived there, we went for a swim just outside of Haulover. It wasn't a lake, it wasn't a pond and it wasn't a river, I don't know what to call it, but it was a small body of clear inviting water and we were all hot and sweaty from walking for 3 hours in the mid afternoon sun. I made it home around 7:00 pm, and it looked like things were quieting down. I did get hit by some stray fireworks, but luckily my clothes were wet from the swimming so I didn't catch fire.

Stranded in Bluefields

Its been a busy month. I finally gave in and decided to buy a bicycle. Our territory is very big and there are very few taxis around here. If there is more than one they don't run on the same day. Our meeting for field service is at the baseball stadium in Haulover every Tuesday, which is a 45 minute walk. Then on Wednesday its 30 minutes to Raitipura. And by now of course I have studies scattered in both directions.

There are no bike stores in Pearl lagoon, so if you want to buy one here it will be second hand. Seeing as the bicycles here are very low quality to begin with I thought a used one would be a bad idea. So I decided to make a trip to Bluefields and buy one new. The alternative would be to go to Rama to find one. Equally viable but its 5 hours by bus as opposed to one hour by panga to Bluefields.

I was also using this trip as an opportunity to visit immigration and renew my visa which would be due the next week. I left early Sunday morning. That was my first mistake. In hindsight I have made this mistake in the past, resulting in my being stuck in Kukra hill all afternoon on my way to pearl lagoon the first time. So, I arrive in Bluefields just before the heavens open up and it starts to pour. I am then informed that there will not be a second panga returning to Pearl Lagoon today. The one I came in on was going back, but in one hour, it was unlikely that I would make it in time seeing as how I had a lot to do.

I went to the ATM and did my banking, and then remembered that Immigration is closed on Sunday, so I was DEFINITELY stuck until Monday. So I went and bought everything I needed, and dragged my shiny new bicycle through the canals (formerly known as streets, before the rain started) to the nearest sheltered bus stop to wait out the rain. I called the family I stayed with when I was serving in Bluefields a couple years ago, and they very kindly offered me a place to stay for the night. Despite being soaking wet by the time I got to the house (the rain never did stop) it felt really good to be back in my old neighborhood and see old friends.

Getting my visa renewed the next morning went smoothly. It was still raining of course, but I was able to get the 3 month extension with hardly any questions being asked. All they needed was an un-folded copy of my passport and a vague idea of where I was living. And here is a picture of the bike.

It has fenders to deal with the excessive amounts of mud and water we ride through and a rack to carry things like water jugs, gas tanks, and literature. Once I got it to pearl lagoon I took it to the bike repair shop in town to fix all the design flaws. (such as the chain being too short, and pieces being in the wrong position). In all the bike cost about 3,260 Cordobas, or $128 US, or $137 Canadian. There are no return policies here, and you won't find a bike in any store that is properly built, so you just have to make due with what you find. So far the bike has been working great and has been extremely useful.

Kakabila

December is here... over the past few weeks we have had notably less rain. The waters are getting less murky and the temperatures are rising. This is a beautiful time of year on the Atlantic coast of Nicaragua, though one must adapt to the heat. That being said I remember Bluefields was much hotter around May and June.

Last week before heading out to Haulover we decided to stop for a quick coffee at the bakery, and it turned out to be our most productive call of the day. We weren't exactly preaching in the bakery but we did meet a couple from a village across the lagoon, which is actually very close if you have access to a boat. The name of the community is Kakabila, which is a Miskito word but I really have no idea what it means. After talking to the man for a while we found that he owned a small boat and could take our group to Kakabila for a very small fee. We arranged to go on Wednesday (Today)

So this morning we all met at the wharf instead of the Kingdom hall for service, there were 8 of us in total.
We were all wondering what kind of boat to expect... Marvin (the boat's owner) had told us he has a "skiff". Now, being that I grew up at least 1,000 km from the nearest ocean nautical terms are a mystery to me in the first place. Confounding this mystery is the fact that in Creole many terms have a completely different meaning. In the dictionary a "skiff" is a boat for one person, but he told us his holds 10...

As it turns out his boat was just the right size for our group, and the ride was very smooth. Although it wasn't a fast one, his 15hp engine got us to Kakabila in about an hours time.

As soon as we got close to Kakabila we could hear the reggae music blasting from a house near the wharf. Some locals approached us as we were getting off the boat, a few even formally welcoming us to Kakabila. As usual around here people were happy to take some time to learn about the bible. One woman saw us coming and answered the door with her bible in hand, and then invited us to come in and sit down. The only exception being a few local ministers that did not appear quite so pleased that Jehovah's Witnesses had found their village. In any case Miskito seems to be the local language but out of everyone we talked to we only encountered one person that did not speak English fluently. Next time we will definitely bring more literature in Miskito.

We worked a strip of houses along the shore, there are of course no streets and hardly even sidewalks. The houses are scattered randomly across a clearing in the otherwise dense jungle, so taking addresses would be an exercise in futility. At the edge of town opposite the wharf, we found a gorgeous beach. Soft sand, palm trees and blue sky, appearing like a perfectly planned rest stop at the end of the day. In fact there was even a building that we were told is some kind of hotel or accommodation. We haven't figured out who owns it but I imagine we will quite likely be staying there in the future to work territory and return visits over a few days.

Honorio (a pioneer brother who was assigned here from Mexico) was aware of this beach, as he had brought a change of clothes and swimming trunks. The rest of us had not brought swimming clothes, but that didn't stop us. Myself and others decided that since we were finished for the day there was no harm in going into the water fully clothed. We dried off fast enough on the boat on the way home. We plan to go back next Wednesday