Speaking to the Listening Heaven

The First Church of La Misión Cristiana is located in Acahualinca, a densely populated and very urban neighborhood of Managua. But the majority of La Misión Cristiana's churches are in the countryside -- small churches serving small and widely flung communities, sometimes a day's journey or more from the capital. Just like in the U.S., there can be a real cultural divide between rural and urban congregations, especially when travel and phone communication are not so easy.

Bridging that divide has been one of the goals of the First Church. For two years now, they have organized youth group trips to plant trees at a farm beyond Waslala owned by the church, and to visit the rural churches in the northern region. This past October, Magyolene and I got to tag along on the trip. There were 11 of us in total: Pastor Enrique, Sonia, Johanna, Mayito, me along with the jovenes (youngsters) Joelia, Melissa, Cinthya, Darichela, Karina and Carlos.

Cinthya and Mayito on the bus.

Just getting to the farm is itself an adventure. We left Managua before dawn on the express bus to Waslala. After arriving around noon, we ate a quick lunch and caught an incredibly packed local bus that dropped us off at the farm in a heap of suitcases, hammocks, rubber boots and provisions. The next morning we awoke with the rooster and tramped up the hill to plant trees.

The farm is known as Las Jaguas. For several years now, la Misión has been working to create a viable dairy operation on the property. With the help of Disciples church from Idaho they have build milking structures, planted fodder and build fence posts. This coming year they plan to purchase their first heads of cattle. The farm itself is fairly large and is quite hilly, with sections cleared for pasture and crops, but big swathes left wild. The paths to the upper fields head straight up the side of the hill, which Juan, the local caretaker, and his family seem to run up without any visible effort. But for the rest of us city slickers, getting to the top without slipping and falling in the mud was an accomplishment to be proud of.

Starting small.

I had a line of poetry from Tagore stuck in my head during our trip: "Trees are the earth's endless effort to speak to the listening heaven." Given how important forests are in moderating the local climate and water cycle, you could almost read that line of poetry as an instructive ecology text. In many parts of Nicaragua, farming and cattle ranching has driven some extreme deforestation, even deep in the heart of the Bosawas reserve. The good news is that the government does seem to try to enforce the law where they can: last year the church had to get a permit just to cut a few of their own trees to make fence posts. But beyond just caring for the environment, re-planting trees is important for the long-term viability of the farm. It rains a lot here (and I mean A LOT) and floods and erosion are very real threats to Nica agriculture.

Carlos and Joelia, resting for a moment in the shade.

The view.

Uff.

Cinthya, Karina and Melissa.

Hydration is important.

We spent two mornings planting acacia trees. This involved lugging the saplings up from the nursery to the place where they would be planted. Carlos and I were in charge of digging the holes in the sticky, muddy earth, which we did with shovels and a narrow-bladed tool with a replaceable wooden handle. The rest of the group would then plant the saplings along the fence-lines. We got some awesome blisters.

Our goal was to build "living fences" that lined the edges of the fields that were planted with corn. The trees planted by the group last year had survived and were already a decent size. All of us worked pretty hard. We think we planted more than 300 trees during two days, and each night we slept hard in our hammocks.

The group, hiking to visit the ojo de agua.

After lunch on the second day we decided to hike to the ojo de agua (fresh water spring, literally, the "eye of water") that gives potable drinking water for the farm, and the cattle. A few years ago the church paid to run a PVC pipe from the spring down to the farm house, a distance of nearly 2 kilometers. It was a beautiful walk, running through the forest and along the stream bed, following the white thread of pipe through the greenery. We visited the part of the farm where they had planted cacao trees that would soon be giving their first harvest. Of course, halfway to our goal, the daily afternoon downpour caught us, soaking us completely to the bone.

Kenia and Mayra, showing us a cacao tree.

Sonia, seconds before getting drenched by the rain.

Being caught in the rain is a much more pleasant experience in Nicaragua than in the U.S., where you are always a least a little worried about getting cold. Not a problem here. In fact, if it weren't for the fact that I wear glasses, I would just relax and enjoy the soaking. At any rate, we pushed on. Juan cut giant leaves to serve as makeshift umbrellas for us. We returned completely bedraggled.

¡Lo hicimos!

Hiking to Las Nubes.

On Sunday, our plan was to visit a local church named Las Nubes (The Clouds). This involved catching another before-dawn bus to nearby Puerto Viejo where we set out on foot (and horse) away from the road and headed up, up, up, up, up into the hills. It turns out that the name is literal; the church is perched almost at the top of a mountain, about a 4 hour hike from the road. Since it was the rainy season, the path was completely choked with mud. And unlike hiking trails in the U.S., Nicaraguan trails are mostly free of switchbacks. We just charged straight uphill and kept going until we got to the top.

Joelia and Cinthya, and horses.

Melissa, on the upward climb.

We got so high up we were looking down on tiny villages.

The gorgeous sanctuary at Las Nubes

The church on the hill was amazing. I have to say it was one of the largest and most beautiful La Misión churches I've seen, including those in Managua. Pastor Eligio told me it had been a six year project to build the sanctuary. The community had risen to the occasion of transporting concrete blocks, bags of cement and metal roofing up the trail we had just climbed.

Karina, Carlos and Darichela teach songs to the kiddies.

Joelia and Mayito lead Sunday School for the young adults.

The trumpet player was AMAZING.

Our time at the top was limited because we still had to return back down. But the jovenes of the first church had brought with them materials to run two quick Sunday School classes with the children and young adults. Sonia was asked to preach at the church service and then we had a hasty lunch before heading back downhill.

We returned to the road by another route, and naturally, we were caught again in a torrential downpour just while we were picking our way down a steep path. As the rains came we heard the roar of a troupe of howler monkeys (although we didn't see them). We were all exhausted and muddy when we reached the road. Thankfully the bus came and took us back to our hammocks. The next morning we caught the first of our three buses that would take us back home to Managua.

Cuidar la Creación

Laura Jean and I just finished co-teaching a class at the university called Cuidar la Creación: Medio Ambiente, Ética y Teología (Caring for the Creation: Environment, Ethics and Theology). It was a class that combined environmental science and theology -- I'll let you work out which of us taught which parts -- and it was totally a blast, a really fun and rewarding experience. Right now we're gearing up to teach it again starting in a few weeks.

On the science side I talked about how ecosystems work, the carbon cycle, the nitrogen cycle, photosynthesis, food webs, ecosystem services, climate change, deforestation, environmental health and more. Good nerdy stuff! We also touched on some ethical and policy issues such as the Tragedy of the Commons, Environmental Justice and the international climate negotiations. On the theology side, Laura Jean began in the beginning with the creation story and its call for humans to "till and keep" and be good stewards of the land. She also touched on the clear connection between the environment and the biblical call for justice, along with newer lines of thought such as ecofeminism.

The main goal of the course was to start from the students' experience of their own environment and then to apply what they learned about science and theology to their own communities and churches. The first homework assignment was an essay asking them to describe an environmental problem in their town or neighborhood, and to think about what the costs were to the community and whether or not anyone benefited from the situation. The results were a fascinating glimpse into the ground-level environmental problems in Nicaragua.

In a large class of nearly 40 students, a mix of urban-dwellers and campesinos, the three biggest problems identified were the following: (1) trash disposal and open trash heaps, (2) contamination of rivers and lakes, and (3) problems connected to clear cutting and deforestation. Teaching is a wonderful thing because you can learn so much from your students. Here's what I learned.

Anyone who has visited Nicaragua will have noticed the trash problem. In Managua the streets and gutters and canals are clogged with trash. Trash cans and dumpsters are non-existent and a culture of littering is well-established. The government has been working at improving the trash pick-up system, but many neighborhoods still suffer from unofficial dumping spots. Until recently, Managua was home to Central America's largest open-air trash dump, La Chureca, where hundreds of families lived by picking through the trash. (La Chureca was recently sealed and converted to a modern trash treatment dump thanks to a large aid package from Spain, and the families living there were given the option of employment at the recycling and sorting center.)

Among the students in the class, there was a pretty strong consensus that trash was Nicaragua's biggest pollution problem. Essay after essay recounted the same story told in a different barrio or pueblo: open-air dumping pits, children living nearby, no help from the government and a lack of concern by too many people. The trash is a clear public health threat, in addition to being generally unpleasant to live next to. People joke cynically that the Nicaraguan national flower is the plastic bag, which can be seen fluttering in the fields all around the country. The culture of littering goes hand in hand with a lack of infrastructure for dealing with the problem, and an explosion in the availability of disposable stuff -- all of which makes it a tough problem to solve. This year the government rolled out a big initiative called Vivir Bonito, Vivir Bien (Live Beautiful, Live Well), in hopes of making a dent in the problem.

Trash is also clearly connected to the second problem - the contamination of the lakes and rivers of Nicaragua. The country is home to two of the largest freshwater lakes in the Americas, Lago Xolotlán (Lake Managua) and Lago Cocibolca (Lake Nicaragua). Lake Managua is severely contaminated, thanks to many decades of industrial dumping by factories that no longer exist, but whose contamination lives on after them. The lake also receives runoff from the city of Managua, which went largely untreated until recently. Cocibolca has avoided most of the extreme contamination of its sister to the north, but is currently at the center of the debate about the proposed trans-oceanic canal through Nicaragua.

In rural areas, overuse of pesticides are one of the major sources of water pollution. In Chichigalpa, one of the major sugar cane-producing regions, is currently experiencing an epidemic of chronic kidney disease. Hundreds of young, healthy men working the sugar cane plantations (owned by Nicaragua's wealthiest family, the Pellas) are dying from kidney failure. The disease is especially tragic since it strikes the young and advances rapidly with no cure. And while it has been difficult to pinpoint the cause of the epidemic, some combination of contaminated water and extreme dehydration seem to be the likely culprits. One group of students from that area of Nicaragua did interviews with community groups and workers as part of their final project for the course (more on which soon).

Since the end of the civil war, Nicaragua's agricultural frontier has pushed further into the eastern rainforest. The main culprit, and the eventual endpoint of the land, is cattle ranching -- profitable but destructive. In twenty years from 1990 (the end of the civil war) to 2010, Nicaragua's forested land shrunk from 37% to 25% of the country (FAO 2010). The maps shown here (Liscow 2012) show the tremendous deforestation in the center of the country, from 1983 to 2000.

 

This deforestation is something we have seen first hand on our trips to the campo, and it is one reason behind the church's biodigester project. We have heard time and again from small Nicaraguan farmers about the harm that comes from not conserving the forests -- lack of firewood, erosion, loss of springs and water sources, floods, loss of wildlife and big changes in rainfall patterns.

According to many of our students, the various churches of Nicaragua are asleep when it comes to environmental issues. Several students have told us that the churches are perhaps overly focused on the soul and the hereafter that they forget the body and the present world. But environmental problems continue to grow and occupy a larger space in the national conversation, it's not likely that the churches will remain quiescent for long, at least not if our students have anything to say about it.

Know Your Local Ecosystem, #1

A couple streets over from our house there is this really, really magnificent tree.  Our neighborhood seems to have wisely left a number of big trees growing smack dab in the middle of its streets.  This is annoying for motorists but brilliant once that fierce midday sun starts to beat down.  Our street is home to a mango tree, but it is a mere shrub compared to this baby.


This is an ent-tree.  The trunk is worthy of a Giant Sequoia, the canopy is like a cathedral roof.  This would be the perfect tree for climbing were I somehow three times larger - it's like an apple tree on steroids.

At the close of a great article entitled "How Species Save Our Lives" Richard Conniff offers a list of 13 practical ways we can work toward saving species and preserving biodiversity.  One of them was this:

7. Learn to identify 10 species of plants and animals in your own neighborhood, then 20, and onward.

Now the amount of biology I don't know and never learned would fill, well, a lot of biology textbooks. But since we're now living in a new ecosystem I thought I would try to see if I could actually identify 10 species.

So this is the first one: our neighborhood arbolón is more properly known as the ceiba or kapok tree (Ceiba pentandra, if you want to see what the Encyclopedia of Life has to say about it).  It probably evolved in the Americas but has since spread to the tropics in Africa and Asia.  In Mayan mythology, the world tree was a ceiba.  We've seen a couple other ones around Managua (there's another in the parking lot of the fancy mall) and it's nice to see that at least sometimes people try to keep them around rather than just bulldoze 'em.