I realized too quickly that crossing these rivers was a harsh reality for the locals, as they had no other way around them.  Our sweet village of Gigante is bordered by two rivers; both reaching chest high heights in the winter.  The North river divides the town into two pueblos, and is essential to cross to get to school for half of the children.

Jenny crosses the fallen tree over the river to get to school

This most recent October, I witnessed a local father carrying his six year old across the river so she could make it to school.  The other children opted to stay home instead of face the water and there was only one other option for the brave: a fallen log that hit just shy of the other bank that looked straight out of an Indiana Jones movie.  “Why doesn’t someone just build a suspension bridge?” I thought.  And then I realized that “someone” comes from somewhere and no one will do anything if they think “someone” will do it and sometimes you have to become that “someone” who actually does it.    And so, we became that someone.

Little Kevin leads some travelers over the "old bridge".

I didn’t know the first thing about building a bridge, all I knew was that it was a relatively short distance from bank to bank, and it should be pretty easy right?  Wrong.  I am no engineer, and my google searches for “how to build a bridge for dummies” were coming up short.  Here is where we were saved by a local traveler, (and great friend) who runs a summer camp in North Carolina, named JJ.   He hadn’t built a bridge either, but he had just built a ropes course for the camp so he would do just fine as the engineer.  Luckily we had another brilliant mind on the team lending his insight, Bret Burroughs of South Carolina, and Gigante resident and Sweet Water handy man, Ben Love, who doubles as a Rivas run extraordinaire and Nicaragua building materials expert.

Next step: Funding.  Thankfully, by coincidence, a young girl by the name of Ella Harris was turned onto the Sweet Water Fund by her father who had visited Gigante earlier in the year.  Ella would be celebrating her Bat Mitzvah, and graciously decided to give up her birthday gifts in exchange for donations to the Sweet Water fund.

Ella (center) at her Bat Mitzvah with her sisters Gertie and Golda

A selfless and noble act, I thought, especially for someone of only twelve years old.  Ella would surely be an inspiration to people of all ages, but especially to those teens of Gigante.  She put up a strong presentation, and raised $1800 for the fund, an amount that was unexpected and graciously celebrated!  I sent her a video of the four & five years old students crossing the river barefoot, and some of them scaling the Indiana Jones log, presenting the idea to build a bridge in her name.  Needless to say… she was in!

Six trips to Rivas (our neighboring “city” forty five minutes away), one trip to Managua (the capital three hours away), thirty or so volunteers, twelve hundred dollars (and change), and countless bottles of Fresca and Toña later, stood the incredible, over engineered and beautifully varnished hard wood suspension bridge.  We spent each day troubleshooting, sketching, brainstorming and

The beautiful Nicaraguan hard wood planks of the bridge

laughing and lots and lots of digging and shoveling cement.  It was a movement, of sorts, towards unifying the two pueblos and moving forward, not only in physical terms of getting to school, but in the movement of turning an idea into a reality.  All you need is a little hope, some determination, selfless volunteers and a lot of cold Fresca.  Upon completion, the kids couldn’t wait to walk over the bridge, giggling the whole way.  Even we were excited to skim across those hard wood planks, gripping the cable wire while we bounced over the river below.

A week later, a local woman was showing her friends from out of town the bridge, as sort of a tourist attraction.  I’ve seen other older Gigante locals walk right over it, like it has been there for years, and every time we see a little student in their crisp clean uniform and freshly shined shoes scamper across, we can’t help but smile.

The engineer, JJ Shepard sits on the bridge during construction.

We did it together; a unified effort, beautifully, positively, with pure brut strength and some typical Nicaraguan challenges and little Nicaraguan victories. We want to thank all those who were involved, including Ella, her father Jason, JJ, Burroughs, Ben, Omar, India, Macho, Rambo, Berto, Julio, Russ, Gavino, Bryan, Dale, Dougie and little Jose Lorenzo.  We’d also like to thank Dale Dagger Surf Lodge & Chele Palmado’s Rumshack for donating food and drinks to the devoted volunteers.  We are stoked for the next projects to come!

Little students on their way to school!

by Kassidy Mefford
Director/ Founder Sweet Water Fund, Inc.

Kassidy, JJ, and India with some of local students in front of the bridge

Doña Araminta gives a new shirt to her daughter

Well, there are two things we learned from a fundraiser in Gigante… Nicaraguan’s love American clothing and fried meat tortilla pockets.  We learned a slew of other good things too like how to work together as a team, how to organize an event, how to advertise for an event and how to double your profit.  We also learned what we could do better next time including better organization, high dollar sponsors and high profile attendees, and that… well… having a fundraiser with people who can’t afford more than one twenty Cordoba enchilada is probably not the most profitable solution.  But to see the smiles on the girls faces as they raked in the cash on our rainy day turned fun day barbeque fiesta, I knew that we were building team moral and implementing something strong for the future.

Karla collected all the funds for the Party and led the organization

The Gigante women’s softball team is made up of some of the most ballsy (no pun intended) forward thinking, confident and competent women in this area.  The girls not only possess talent and work ethic, but gumption and grit.  They get frustrated when people don’t come to practice, they throw the boys off the field when they are on their practice time, and they love to play… day or night, rain or shine.  Baseball flows in their blood and they’ve been playing since they could first walk.  The girl’s season starts in September and after tallying up the various expenses of scorekeepers, umpires and transportation for the team to the games, the girls estimated that they would need around $400 for the season.  When we first tossed the idea of the fundraiser around, they came to me with faces of defeat saying that we couldn’t play this year because there was no money.  “We can make that amount,” I said, convinced, and the girls and I set out to reach our goal.

Dustin held it down at the grill station

As Nicaragua approaches it’s rainy season, we prayed for sunshine for our fundraiser, but the clouds just kept rolling grey.  Thankfully, Carlos from Blue Sol, loaned us a dry corner of his restaurant to set up shop.  We set up a barbecue grill with spicy chicken kebabs, a basket with freshly fried homemade Nicaraguan enchiladas, a cooler with cold Toña, soda and water, a team hustling to sell raffle tickets and a giant table filled with donated American clothing collected from the past year from our incredibly gracious and kind guests at Dale Dagger’s surf lodge.  We priced the clothing at extremely affordable rates for the townspeople and the crowds started to form and push at the moment we unveiled the clothes.  We set up our sound system complete with microphone and the newest continuous reggaeton hits and a table with our epic raffle prizes donated by the Sweet Water Fund, including cell phone and good quality standing room fan.  The kids were excited and smashing together to read the free surf magazines donated by the lodge and mom’s were piling up heaps of baby and kids clothes that will last the test of time through all the kids in the family.

Kassidy gives out pencils to the participants in the balloon toss game

The energy was good, and it was exciting how many people came.  “We should do more of these!” I heard Karla say and it made me stop and think for a moment that she got it.  We are just here to help kick start them into doing these things themselves, to provide some advice and motivation as a mentor.  A non-profit is not made just to GIVE.  It’s made to GUIDE and use our privileged opportunities, education and experience to encourage people to make it happen, whatever it may be.

The girls on the Softball team help sell clothes to the town

In the end, it was a success.  We sold out of everything in two hours, an hour shy of our quoted end of the party.  People lingered and wanted more… more music, more dancing, and more enchiladas!  “Next time”, Karla said, “We will have a party with music, food and drinks that will go all night and we’ll charge at the door!”  She was pumped.  We took a photo together and all the prizewinners showed off their new glory.  We’ll never forget the look on the little kid’s faces in the front row when it came time to win that fan…. closed eyes, prayers on the lips and crossed fingers.  A good fan is jackpot gold in Nicaragua and everyone had their hopes on that.  Which gives you an idea of the simplicity of life and living in a place like this versus the neighboring developments, which would charge twice the amount a person makes in one day here, for one raffle ticket.

Darling, all star player on the team, helps sell clothes

So, in our humble attempt to reach our vast goal of $400 in a village where people live off less than $2 a day, we counted the money eagerly after the last pieces of the party were cleaned up.    Our final verdict?  A $283 profit which is almost three times the expenses to throw the party and just $117 short of our goal.   The girls were ecstatic about the amount and optimistic about the season, which was really the success that I was looking for.  Money will always come, but team moral and undying motivation are harder to attain.  In closing, it was a success for all, in more ways than one.

Look forward to news and updates on the Women’s softball team for this year!

We would like to give special thanks to all of the Surf Lodge guests who donated clothing and brought it all the way on the airplane for the townspeople, Kristen and Pete Holcroft for contributing the biggest cash donation to the team, Bo fox from Project WOO for donating sweet Surf t-shirts and rash guards, David Lowe for donating his special watermelon punch, Dale Dagger for lending his vehicle, Chanelle Kelly for hustling the raffle, Dustin for making everything kebab-able, Ben Love for doing everything and anything and to all the volunteers for a great event.

If you’d like to donate to the Women’s Softball team to help them reach their goal, please visit our donate page:  http://sweetwaterworld.org/?page_id=20

Chapin and India and their yard sale success

India Reinartz and Chapin Kreuter, previous residents of Playa Gigante and friends of Walter and Maria were living in Australia when they read the emotional letter I wrote in my last attempts for a remedy for little Luis (see previous posts about Luis and Leukemia). Overrun by helplessness being so far away, India led a passionate rally to raise money for Luis’ recovery.  India, herself, was at a loss because of her own lack of funds, and all she could think of was selling whatever she owned in order to help raise funds.  That sparked the idea of collecting all the other junk that people don’t use and they just end up donating  or throwing it away.  Even though she and Chapin had only lived in Aussie for a month or two, they enlisted in the help of their neighbors and co-workers to hold a giant yard sale fundraiser in Luis’ honor.

India got on her computer and printed out our story about Luis and the family. She wrote up a flyer, which she posted at her workspace and Chapin’s asked co-workers to donate any old items that they had no use for towards a good cause. Then she wrote a very general notice to the public explaining dates times and cause, as well putting an ad in the local paper advertising the garage sale. Chapin and India posted their garage sale flyers all around town and spent the week going to  co-worker’s houses retrieving donated items. “WOW did everyone really pull through” said India, ” We got loads of stuff. We had people who were moving house’s to drop off furniture, we received gift baskets, garbage bins, picture frames, mirrors, TV’s, ovens, a bird cage, foot baths, etc.  Basically I could have furnished an entire house with the stuff people gave us. They all really made it happen.”

They set up the fantastic Yard Sale in Luis’ honor, Saturday at 7a.m on March 26^th and had an amazing turn out. India had made a big poster board with a picture of Luis printed out in full color and our story, as well as information on Luis’ condition and a donation jar.  They raised an awesome $450 and sold practically everything. They finished the day with a letter of appreciation to their co-workers, a big thank-you of support in the local newspaper, and a cold beer and a cheers to their friends and adopted family in Nicaragua.

Great Job India and Chapin!  Walter and Maria were overwhelmed with gratitude.  Some of the funds were used to purchase beautiful photo prints of Luis and his sisters with custom frames for the family’s house.  These were the first and only photos Walter and Maria have of their son.  The rest of the funds will be used toward the baseball field, in which Luis was enamored with and where he spent most of his time.

Darling represents Gigante in her new duds

A big shout out thank you to the always-generous Mefford/ Dozah family, who, in lieu of buying Christmas presents for each other last year, spent their loot on uniforms for the Gigante women’s softball team. Debra and Gary Mefford, Pat Dozah, Denise Dozah and Maureen Stanton all pitched in to give the girls matching, functioning uniforms as Las Estrellas de Gigante (the stars of Gigante).
This wasn’t the first time the Mefford fam selflessly gave up their all-consuming Christmas gift giving tradition. Three years ago they forfeited their gifts in favor of buying clothes, toys and sports gear for a family of nine kids and a single mom, and built a roof on the house the following year. Awesome!

The Gigante Women's softball team "Las Estrellas de Gigante"

Darling, Martin, Victor, Mama Raena, and Rosemary drive home after their victory

Dr. Quintana leads the class of teens

I was shocked to learn that not only the doctor was happy to come to the village for a presentation, but it in fact, was her job.   She also had a personal mission to spread the word of safe sex and teenage pregnancy prevention.  Accustomed to the standard ignorant state of this rural Nicaraguan village regarding sexually active teens, we had forgotten that there are still hometown heroes and soldiers.

We successfully and playfully “kidnapped” half the town’s kids from ages seven to twenty-five and threw them in the back of the truck to haul them into the workshop.

Dr. Quintana, a twenty something blond with a sweet voice, but a serious edge, showed up with displays, samples, pamphlets and condoms… geared to the nines.  She and her assistant led an incredibly sassy, fun, comfortable chat where all the kids were happily involved and engaged.  She’s quick witted too, and tricked the over confident boys, who boasted to know everything about sex, to be the first to demonstrate to the class how to put on a condom.  And shockingly enough, they did so, with only a touch of redness to their cheeks, and a shred of humility.

Kevin, Edwin and Roberto listen and learn

The kids weren’t the only ones to learn; Dr. Quintana taught us a few things too, and one very surprising thing in particular… all birth control in Nicaragua is free.  That’s right, FREE.  MINSA, the Nicaraguan health department provides condoms, the pill, the shot, IUD’s, STD tests and a mountain of free knowledge.  All you have to do is go to the clinic, and everything is there at your fingertips.   I told the kids that they should be so lucky, as we don’t have these privileges back in the ‘ol USA… land of the free?

For the hour that the chat (charla) went on, the kids were extremely inquisitive, interested and surprisingly willing to learn and even volunteer.  I can honestly say that I have never seen them so excited and I was pleasantly surprised to see thrilled

An involved mother and her daughter, Leana, at the class

parents there too… who understood the importance of this lesson.  I thought we might have a protest or two for offering birth control in a predominantly Catholic country, but it appears the people here, in this village, are quite progressive, something that I discover every day.  These folks WANT to learn.  These folks are open to change.  These people, with all that they have, are catching and holding on to all the education we can throw at them.  Now that we have their attention, let’s see what we can really do.

Please feel free to email us with any ideas or lessons or fun educational activities we can share with the townspeople of Gigante!

Info@sweetwaterworld.org

The sexual education class covered protection, STD's and pregnancy

Wilfredo volunteers to demonstrate for the class

Jenny and her free swag at the end of the class

Cindy, Debbie, and Marisela with their toothbrushes

The people of Gigante were happy to thank Debra Mefford, dental hygienist and Sweet Water board member, for the tooth brushes she donated and personally delivered last week. They were also quick to grab a brush for their cousin, sister, nephew and so on. Thankfully Debra brought enough for fourteen families including babies and toddlers too. Next time we’ll do a presentation on how to properly brush to prevent some of those famous grills we see around town!

The following kids want to say THANK YOU to PEGGY!  Luis, Marisela, Marbelis, Junior, Cynthia, Martita, Juan Alejandro, Lucelia, Araminta, Pedro Rafael, Cesar Luis, Rosemary, Ray, Luis, Gypsy, David, Chris, Reynaldo, Kevin, Jenny, Karla, Lixi, Jessica, Christian, Pedro, Annabel, Michael, Alex, Pedro, Jenny, Walter and Dayana.  THANKS PEGGY!

Cesar Luis at home with his school supply package

Jenny, Walter and Dayana with their school supplies

Pedro's family accepted his school supply package

Kassidy and Ben hand out the school supplies to Cynthia, Marisela, Marbelis and Luis

Luis' exam with the new Doctor

I’ve ridden in the back of the truck before, but never like this.  This seemed like the longest drive of my life and not far from the most helpless I have ever felt.  The wind ripped through the wooden slats on the truck bed, matting my hair and stretching my skin.  Hunched over a pile of backpacks, I was exposed, and the straps lacked mercy by continually lashing my face.  My dirt filled hair stung as it whipped my eyes, blurring my vision, but what I could see was lit by the most brilliant moon in twenty years, a beautiful sight.  The cold night air from the lake pierced my flesh, and the only comfort felt was by passing semi trucks bursting a blanket of warmth over my chicken skinned core and to close my eyes for peace.  The words “Se murio me hijo,” kept revolving in my brain like buzzards to carnage.  “We lost,” I said to myself as thoughts of Luis’ brilliant smile amongst chubby cheeks passed my tired brain.  “We lost”.

El Luchador, was what they called him.  “The fighter” who astonished doctors with his strength and sheer will.  He was known to everyone, as a child of pure joy.  He was easily amused, giggled at any silly face you made and seemed to really enjoy just being near people, regardless of how well he knew them.  He was wise beyond his years; knew every medical term relating to him and how to operate all the equipment that littered his hospital room.  He often had to reassure his parents of hope and happiness, as they knew his ever-fading state; he kept them in line.  He knew what he wanted, and called the shots, up until minutes before he took his last breath.

“Incredible” was the word the doctor used on our previous trip to Managua to describe Luis’ strength.  We visited a private pediatric oncologist at the Vivian Pellas hospital to get a second opinion.  This hospital is the “expensive” one, where a consultation costs forty dollars and really is a World Class hospital.  I had spoken with him about Luis’ disease, and the fact that he had only ever had the same dismal doctor for six years and that we were looking for any alternative solution with money being no object.  Upon entering the hospital at the Pediatric ward, all the staff were extremely friendly and kind, something you would expect of medical professionals dealing with sick children, versus the public hospital of different approach.  The doctor gave him a quick physical exam, made him laugh, and then kindly asked Ben to take him outside so he could explain to us what was happening. “The cancer is not only in his blood”, said softly said, “but it’s in his lymph nodes around his throat.  His belly is filled with liquid, his pancreas is inflamed, his testicle inflamed, he is barely able to urinate and his vision is blurred.”  This was news that we already knew, but the freshness of a new doctor and new intelligence seemed promising.   There was also a small satisfaction found in Luis’ treatment for the last six years.   “In Nicaragua, we are curing 65% of cancer patients,” said Dr. Baez, “ In the United States they are curing 75%, so there is not too much of a difference in quality” he assured.  The doctor was also the head of the Oncology department at Luis’ hospital, and since Luis had an appointment there the following day, the doctor promised to be there to aid in advice after his full checkup.

Maria, Walter, Ben and Luis having pizza at Las Galerias mall

This was positive and Luis was cheerful.  That day we took them to get pizza and ice cream, talked about school, laughed at Ben, and drove them out to Walter’s sister’s house on the outskirts of Managua.  Everything seemed, for once, to be moving upward.  Regretfully painful came the decisions made at the appointment the next day.  Something went wrong.   Somehow, Luis’ original doctor had ordered another round of Chemotherapy.  A consistent regimen of chemotherapy is apparently normal for children with A.L.L. Leukemia, but not for one who has low defenses.  Now we aren’t experts at Leukemia and don’t pretend to be, but we knew that he couldn’t handle more chemotherapy.  It was killing everything, and he was too weak to endure more.  After his last near death experience with the radiation last time, we were on the path to more natural solutions.  Maria was making fresh carrot and beet juice for Luis every morning, I advised him to stop eating meat months ago and he was receiving healing massages once a week from a wonderful therapist from New Zealand.  These solutions were just things that I had heard, from other cancer survivors, and we thought we could implement them into Luis’ life.  What we knew for sure, was that the Chemo wasn’t helping and that it should cease immediately.  Somehow that idea didn’t get translated to the doctor, and somehow Luis was given his final round of chemotherapy.

Luis and his sisters, marisela and marbelis

On his last day, Walter was at our house still searching for something.  Luis had been bleeding from the nose and mouth and suffering very short breaths.  The last time this happened, we rushed him to the hospital and he survived.  He had strength again, could walk, and could laugh.  This time seemed to be the same.  At the Mascota hospital, they send the patients home directly after Chemo.  In Luis’ case, he lived three hours from Managua, only passable by way of bus, then taxi, then motorcycle home onto the dirt roads.  Before Sweet water donations, Luis would often ride home on the chicken bus, standing the whole way, and lethargic from radiation.  With Sweet water, Walter’s family received funds for transportation, lodging and food in Managua to recoup after chemo sessions.  This particular day, with Luis’ state, he should have stayed in the hospital under observation because it was inevitable that we would just have to return.   No one wanted to go back to the hospital, but after hearing the opinion of an American oncologist and the Vivian Pellas doctor himself, the only logical thing was to take him in immediately.  “There is a chance to save him”, they said.  We gave Walter this option and said, “If we can save him now to at least get him strong again, we can try something new later.”  I couldn’t bare the thought of just giving up, and Walter couldn’t either.  They asked Luis, and he agreed to go the hospital.

Luis passed away at nine o’clock that evening, in the arms of his mother, his grandmother and his father in the back seat of our pickup truck.  We were almost home after a long day of tears, and suffering.  The doctors at the E.R. wanted to put a tube in his throat to breathe for him.  He couldn’t breathe on his own, and his heart could stop at any moment. Luis didn’t want a tube in his throat.  He didn’t want to go out that way.  He wanted to go home.

He asked for Ben and I at the hospital, to just talk to us by ourselves.  He could barely talk through the oxygen mask, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me in to hug him.  He wouldn’t let go.  I asked him what he wanted, and he said he wanted to go home.  I assured him that we would get him a tank of oxygen and drive him back to Gigante.   He had no fear in his eyes… he was just tired.  He knew he was going to die, he told us so.  He was ready.

We miraculously were able to buy an oxygen tank from an outside vendor and strapped it to the back of the truck to help give him a comfortable ride home.  We wanted to make it all the way to Gigante.  I offered to ride in the back so the family could be with him inside.  I was helpless out there, dodging sketchy wandering street people and meditating through the cold, wet wind.  All I could think was that my pain was nothing compared to theirs, and if I could take it on, I would gladly offer.  It was the longest drive of our lives, and is burned into our memories.

A day later, I was idling the truck down the long back road of Gigante to the cemetery with the casket in the back and hundreds of people walking with us.  It was beautiful, really, how many people gathered at the house all through the night until morning after we arrived home.  The news spread, and the townspeople were there with chairs, coffee and love.  Hundreds of neighbors crowded the house to say their last words to Luis and to offer support to the family.

See, in the U.S., when someone dies, there is almost a magic curtain that drops where people don’t see all that goes into it.  The body magically disappears, a spiritual, formal service is made and the casket is driven in a hearse to a beautiful ground where people you never see, work diligently to make sure this experience is effortless for the family.  Here, in a third world village, the family and friends do everything.  Luis’ body stayed at the house.  Ben drove with Walter at midnight to pick up the casket.  He was dressed, and I drove the casket to the cemetery, in our pickup truck, the very next day.  They put his body inside a concrete cave, and closed it up with bricks and cement at that very moment.  There was no public prayer, no bells, no whistles… just very, very real emotions.

In this time, the end, it was a bit of a release.  No more doctors for Luis.  No more hospitals, no more pain, shortness of breath, stomach aches.  No more fevers, migraines, or bone pain.   He is playing now, running, jumping, laughing… all the things he was robbed of in his last years.  Walter and Maria are content to know that there is no more suffering for him, and they know they have a long road, but are looking forward.  They also asked me to please write everyone who helped Luis’ cause personally, and say thank you for everything.  They are very grateful to all the people who touched Luis’ life and feel forever in debt for the financial assistance and love they have received from everyone.

I will leave you all with a letter written to parents who had lost their daughter, Rachel, that was shared with me this morning.  It is beautifully written and brilliantly sensitive. Something to set our minds at ease and encourage us to just breathe through the however difficult moments that pass us, as they happen.

Best,

Kassidy

Dear Steve and Anita,

Rachel finished her work on earth, and left the stage in a manner that leaves those of us left behind with a cry of agony in our hearts, as the fragile thread of our faith is dealt with so violently. Is anyone strong enough to stay conscious through such teaching as you are receiving? Probably very few. And even they would only have a whisper of equanimity and peace amidst the screaming trumpets of their rage, grief, horror and desolation.

I can’t assuage your pain with any words, nor should I. For your pain is Rachel’s legacy to you. Not that she or I would inflict such pain by choice, but there it is. And it must burn its purifying way to completion. For something in you dies when you bear the unbearable, and it is only in that dark night of the soul that you are prepared to see as God sees, and to love as God loves.

Now is the time to let your grief find expression. No false strength. Now is the time to sit quietly and speak to Rachel, and thank her for being with you these few years, and encourage her to go on with whatever her work is, knowing that you will grow in compassion and wisdom from this experience.

In my heart, I know that you and she will meet again and again, and recognize the many ways in which you have known each other. And when you meet you will know, in a flash, what now it is not given to you to know: Why this had to be the way it was.

Our rational minds can never understand what has happened, but our hearts– if we can keep them open to God – will find their own intuitive way. Rachel came through you to do her work on earth, which includes her manner of death. Now her soul is free, and the love that you can share with her is invulnerable to the winds of changing time and space. In that deep love, include me.

In love,

Ram Dass