Each day starts in a blaze of baking sunshine. The heat is swept away later, by the winter rains that gather each afternoon. Hurricane Felix, which battered the northeast part of the country earlier this month, sent one of its gray spurs over Granada, and drenched the city for a few days. In the comfort of the EI office, it was inconvenient. In the dirt streets and plastic homes of Villa Esperenza, such a downpour can be catastrophic.
The streets turn to mud. Houses, many no more than crude lean-tos of corrugated metal and plastic sheeting, cave and bend under the pounding rain. Water sluices off of the sprawling concrete textile plant that runs behind the neighborhood, and pours through homes. Filthy rivers swirl across bedrooms and kitchens. In some houses, Anielka says, the water can be knee deep.
Still, the people of Villa Esperanza carry on. "Sometimes you come into the barrio after a rain, and you're totally confused," laughs Milagros. "People pick up their houses and move them. They put them on higher ground out of the way of the drainage." The consequences, however, are more serious. It's flu season here, and for a child, sleeping in a wet mud-filled bed is an invitation for illness and missed school, if not far more serious health problems.
Anielka and Milagros struggle to keep the most at-risk children in school. "Most kids are great, they go, they work hard, they try to keep their grades up," Anielka says. "But it's difficult with some others. There are so many reasons why they stop going." She rattles of explanations on her fingers. "Some children leave the barrio, they go to Managua or Masaya. It's especially difficult with kids older than 13. They can find work in construction, or maybe as an assistant to a mechanic or something. A lot of them prefer to work, especially if they are doing poorly in school." Still, as with so many things, most problems begin at home.
Milagros and Anielka visit the children's homes several times a week, encouraging those doing well and trying to motivate those falling behind. "It can be hard. If their parents are working all day, there's no one to send them to school, no one to make sure they go. If they're already doing poorly, getting bad grades-they would rather play in the street," Anielka says. "We try to let them know of the other possibilities, why they should go to school, but...," she shrugs. "If there is not support from the parents it's difficult."
A program-wide meeting is scheduled for later this week. In addition to giving information about next year's application process (the school year begins again in late January), Anielka plans to reiterate the importance of parents' role. "Parents have a responsibility that comes before ours, before the foundation," she says. "They are a huge part of the process. Them, and the kids of course. We can't do anything without them," she laughs.
For students, new and returning, next year's uniforms, shoes, and backpacks have already been ordered. For the first time, EI is collaborating with a local micro-finance NGO-Opportunity International. EI has found small independent vendors for the most of the needed uniform items: around 100 pairs of pants, 100 skirts, and 200 pairs of shoes. "We want to improve the local community," Anielka says. "It's great to be able to buy so much here. We want to have everything ready earlier as opposed to later."
As the school year trundles on, work continues. Milagros is collecting the students' mid-semester grades, and the next few days will be spent determining who needs additional help. The tires on the bicycles have been repaired as well, so it is easier than ever to shoot over to the barrio.
The office is changing as well, mostly courtesy of the Caņa, the office 'guard' dog. To everyone's surprise, though most of all her own, she has acquired a deep bark. So far, she's only had the courage to try it out on the chickens across the street. She seems to scare herself more than she does anything else.
~ written by Sam Jacoby on location in Granada
