Lindsey Morris

My beautiful friend, Lindsey Morris recently went to Nicaragua. One night after her return, she uploaded this wondrous album on Facebook with 200 film photos she took while she was there. I was blown away. I immediately asked her if she’d be willing to share her photos and some words on her experience and I’m delighted to bring you this guest post.

I arrived in Nicaragua 58 days ago; it has been 37 days since I arrived back in the United States. 37 mornings later, I still wake up with my heart feeling melted by a little girl’s haunting eyes and silent voice. I remember the way she looked at me, tiny brown eyes that pierced my heart with the fear and hopeful hopelessness that consumed her everyday life. I remember the first time she grabbed my hand silently, but with braveness behind the motion. I remember her returning to hold my hand everyday for two weeks as we built a new school in her community. Brick by brick, I endlessly tempted to seek her identity out of her silent voice.

On our last day in San Ramon, we celebrated with the schoolteachers, children, and their families for what had been accomplished during our time with the community there. The day was full of dancing, giggles, and a piñata. I watched as the children spun in circles with pure happiness displayed on their faces. It reminded me of the time I stayed up all night playing the Nicaraguan version of  “duck, duck, goose,” with my host family as fireflies twinkled outside the open door. Smiles remained on our faces for hours as we ran around the homemade wooden chairs kicking dust up from the dirt floor. The next morning I woke up to the roosters crowing in the backyard, the most enchanting sunrise, and a more than satisfying plate of beans and rice.  I felt more at peace with my beautiful host sister, Ingrid, and her adorable cousin, Ana, then I had ever felt before. One of the most fascinating notions I discovered while in Nicaragua was the genuine joy that people experienced from the most simplistic moments of life.

As the celebration in San Ramon came to a close, I was holding the little girl in my arms and her hands tightly gripped my shoulder blades. Her head rested lightly on my shoulder and I felt her heart beat slowly on my chest. The little girl’s preschool teacher walked slowly up to me with a smile and a facial expression that held some type of heartache in what she was about to share with me. She asked me if I knew anything about the little girl in my arms. I laughed with embarrassment in my face and told her that I had failed to discover anything about the little girl, for she wouldn’t speak to me or anyone else.

An intense wind blew through the words that sunk from her lips to the bottom of my heart. She explained to me the abuse that this little girl experienced at home that silenced her voice. Her father had been known to starve, beat, and disable her from attending school if she cried, for any reason. The teacher then continued to explain to me that the only reason this little girl’s father allowed her to attend school the past two weeks was because she told him an American had come to take her home. As she shared a piece of this little girl’s story with me, I felt nearly every piece of hope I had formed within my heart being ripped out of me. I stood speechless and blurry eyed, as the teacher continued to speak. My mind felt numb and I began to lose grasp of what she was even saying. Instead, I stared down at the little girl’s head buried in my shoulder as the rest of my group began to pile in the van to return home. When I explained to her I had to leave soon, her salty tears began to soak into my t-shirt. Her grip upon my back tightened as I attempted to put her down. I had been waiting for weeks to hear the voice of this little girl vibrate into my restless ears. And then it happened. She lifted her head and said to me in broken exhales:

 “Please take me with you.”

My head began pounding immediately and I told myself to hold my tears back at least a dozen times. Until finally, I told myself it was okay. Because sometimes it is okay to let all the tears that have built up within your soul roll out like endless hilltops. And as I waved goodbye, I realized that her name would forever remain unknown in my mind, but her face had been forever pressed into my heart. That little girl embodied the fearless love that roots from numerous branches of struggle in one’s tree of life. That little girl opened my eyes to Nicaraguan people as a whole. With no purified water, a lack of social services, no plumbing, an insufficient school system, no electricity, and a scarcity of food, I still saw a sense of dignity and hope behind the people I met in Nicaragua.

Yamileth Perez, a community health leader, shared one of the most influential stories I have ever heard. As we drove toward her home, she began telling us about growing up as a child in Managua and still currently living near the “La Chureca,” the largest dump in Central America. People from all over Managua go the city dump to sift through the garbage to find food or other items that could be sold for money, such as tin or aluminum. Yamileth recalled a time as a child when she was so hungry she ate fumigated rice, which can cause death, and then poured oil over what was left so that no one else in the community would eat it. “When someone is suffering from hunger, they don’t think of what they eat, only of what can fill their stomach,” she explained.

As we neared the La Chureca, I could see smoke rising continually into the sky. When we arrived, I saw miles of trash with scattered patches of fire across the land. I could smell chemicals in the air and feel the smoke within my lungs. I saw families walking upon the trash that covered the dirt road around us. I will never forget the huge knot I felt in my stomach as I watched a child with torn clothes and no shoes walking through the trash in the distance. I was sitting there, staring at the trash and the child, attempting to grapple with the normality of this situation in the community, and I realized the there would never be a passing day of my life that I would forget this moment. As I looked to Yamileth, I could see the sadness in her eyes as she described the horrific realities that she has lived within and dealt with her entire life.

Yet, like I mentioned earlier, behind every Nicaraguan story of struggle I heard was hope. Yamileth not only shared the fight of personal survival she has faced, but also the fight of survival for her entire community. From the age of 11, she felt a calling to make a difference in other people’s lives. She spent most of her life volunteering and now at the age of 42, she manages a health post that is accessible to her entire community. She also owns a fair trade store nearby that empowers local women to create goods and receive a just payment to provide food and clothes for their family.  Yamileth’s achievements are more than inspiring to me. Her continuous attempts to serve others and passion to make a difference gives me hope. Most importantly, Yamileth contains the fortitude to tell the story of who she is with a completely sincere heart.

Yamileth’s story, that little girl’s story, and many other stories I heard while in Nicaragua have forever changed the way I view the world around me and the privileged, yet accountable position I live my life with. Purified water, a sufficient amount of social services, plumbing, educational growth, electricity, an abundance of food; these are only some of the accessible resources I take for granted everyday in the United States. But I am not here to make a line between have or have nots. I am here to share the notion of you and I both being individuals with stories that shape and connect a collaborative group of other people together to form the human species. And I believe at the core of human existence, the need for love is found. And we, as people of this world, share a common duty to grow roots of love between individuals, cities, and nations. There has always been a piece of hope in my soul that believes we are not separate worlds holding a key to each other’s cultures, but that we are all holding each other up through struggle and sharing love with one another to bind this complex, beautiful world together. The roots we establish in the places that we share these stories are growing from one generation to the next. The stories we wholeheartedly open up for others to hear are each part of a collective group of memories that bind our human spirit together.  There is something entirely extraordinary about the stories we share with one another, the stories that shake our bones and make us pause for moments at a time to remember we are all alive on this planet but never alone.

And I have one final thought for each and every person who reads this. Don’t ever stop. Don’t ever stop learning about our world and why it is the way it is. All of the complexities that connect with what may seem so simple. All of the past events that have built upon today. Don’t ever stop moving towards what you want in your life. All of the obstacles in our life can only prepare us for something larger than we ever expected. Don’t ever stop taking action for a better tomorrow. All of the actions we take on a daily basis affect the world around us. All of the decisions we make form the rest of our path. And if you ever feel a tug at your heart to explore somewhere else in this enormous world, don’t ever stop attempting to get there. start today, because if you don’t start today than you may never. You may never see how beautiful the rest of the world is beyond the screen in front of your face.

If you’re wondering what you can do to help, below is information and links that Lindsey and her group visited and learned about in Nicaragua. If you would like to talk to Lindsey more about her experience, you’re free to email her at morrisl14(@)up.edu.

 1) Esperanza en Accion (Hope Through Action) is the fair trade store that Yamileth Perez directs in order to support local artisans. The store’s website, includes purchasable artwork and links to learn about the artisans stories, as well as links to other fair trade opportunities. Questions or orders can be sent to emily(@)esperanzaenaccion.org

 2) Artesanias Mujeres Del Plomo is a home based business where community members use seeds and other natural materials to create hand made jewelry and sell pieces individually in order to earn an income and provide for their family. If you would be interested in supporting these artists, please e-mail maritzanica_28(@)yahoo.es

 3) Zona Franca Masili is a clothing cooperation that produces with organic cotton and uses ethical trade. Buyers have the option of using their own design and logo as well. The cooperation deals with large orders rather than individual products usually, which works great for group t-shirts, workshops, etc. To learn more about what Zona Franca Masili is about, visit their website. Orders can be sent through e-mail to zonafrancamasili(@)gmail.com

 4) Prodecoop is a coffee cooperative that focuses on impacting the lives of 2,300 small coffee producer’s. 80% of their sales are distributed to Fair Trade businesses, which directly turn around to improve that producer’s quality of life. The cooperative also makes an effort to improve the educational infrastructure in Nicaragua by providing scholarships and school materials to students. To learn more, visit their website.

(You can see all of Lindsey’s photographs in this Facebook album).