For Malala

A week ago today, Mady and I had to travel to Managua to renew our 90 day tourist visas. In my opinion that is quite a milestone. I have crossed the threshold of wide brimmed hats, clip-on sunglasses, Hawaiian shirts, cameras hanging on neck straps, giant backpacks, hiking boots, and broken Spanish and into the Nica world. I have a "regular" order at my coffee shop and at my normal lunch spot, I usually know and say hello to at least one person on every block, and more often then not one of my teammates or one of the coaches or one of their friends will see me out in town somewhere and yell "Pope!" which strongly reminds me of strolling around the Bowdoin or GDA campus. And yes, my name has evolved as it always does no matter where I go to just my last name, Pope. Or Pops. Or Kelly María Pops. Or as Techo says, "Mister Pops." They're pretty convinced there's an S at the end. Cracks me up.

It is getting harder and harder to write this blog because many of the things that struck me as different and blog-worthy when I first got here now seem casual and run of the mill. When I was a 'tourist' I used to jump out of the way if a motorcycle whizzed by too close to my feet. I used to be slightly fearful and slightly in awe of all the animals (horses, goats, dogs, cats, and other critters) that roam the streets freely. The driving rules (or lack thereof), the abundance of karaoke, the use of plastic bags for food and drinks (not to carry them, literally to eat or drink out of...picture a plastic sandwich baggie full of juice tied in a knot around a straw) and the ability to ride a bicycle with five people on it all seemed wild to me in July. And just now it took me a solid half an hour to come up with that short list--I almost can't remember what kinds of things used to surprise me about this culture. The motorcycles, buses, and speeding taxis that nearly brush my arms when they drive by rarely make me flinch. The unattended animals seem second nature, one person on a bicycle at a time seems inefficient, the out of tune karaoke notes no longer pierce my ears, and I love drinking juice out of bags. 

Nonetheless, I continue to learn and continue to be surprised by things--mainly the Estrellas. On Thursday, they spent time during our activity to write letters to Malala Yousafzai, a fourteen year old girl from Pakistan who was shot in the head on her way home from school a few weeks ago by a Taliban gunman for her outspoken advocacy of women's right to education. I thought it was important to call attention to the discrimination that girls face around the world, and that while the International Day of the Girl should definitely be a celebration it is equally important to gain perspective of the many challenges and disadvantages that still plague girls. I'm not sure what I anticipated as a response from the girls, especially coming off their fun high from the party on Tuesday. It was a hard story for me to swallow and wrap my head around, let alone for these 12 and 13 year old girls right around Malala's age. I explained that she had an accident because she believes that girls should be able to go to school, but there are some people in the world that disagree and think otherwise so they hurt her.  Despite whatever challenges they may be facing right now as well, the Estrellas were filled with concern about the well-being of this girl half way around the world that they don't know, and in that moment I really understood their full capacity for compassion. Hasly had a face of disbelief, "¿En serio?" (Seriously?) she asked. Unfortunately, yes. I showed them where Pakistan was in relation to Nicaragua (conveniently we have a world map painted on the wall on the 3rd floor) and suggested that we send her words of encouragement while she is trying to get better in the hospital. Hasly again asked, "Entiende ella el español?" Does she understand Spanish? I don't know, I said, but I'm sure that someone can translate your letters and read them to her in her own language. They immediately got to work.

Hasly is arguably the smartest girl on the team (along with her best friend Lizbeth) and at times their intelligence gets them into a bit of trouble with talking back to coaches or being slightly condescending. But most of the time they just amaze me with their ability to digest any topic that is thrown at them. Hasly wrote two full pages to Malala filled with words of respect and encouragement, and it was clear that this issue really resonated with her because she is very dedicated to her own education. Translated into English, here is an excerpt from her letter:

                "Thank you for having so much courage so that all the girls in your country can go to school. I hope you continue forward because you're a warrior. I'm 12 years old and I'm in my 1st year of secondary school. You are an amazing girl, and I know you will keep fighting and succeed. You're not alone in your fight, many other girls want to go to school too, and I support you in your struggle. I hope you get better so you can go to school, and remember you have a friend in me and I really like what you are doing. I pray for the best for you. Your friend, Hasly."

I was genuinely surprised by how well all the girls handled this terrible news and I was left in pretty deep thought for the rest of the night. I think if I had a different job, the news of Malala would still upset me as it is a terribly unfortunate thing to happen, but it wouldn't have deeply resonated and filled me with rage like it did. I thought about one of the major goals of this program to keep our girls in school to better set them up for success, and Malala shares the same goal. I thought about my Lupe, a 14 year old girl just like Malala. I thought about how much life she still has ahead of her and how unbelievably unfair it would be to take that away. I'm thankful that she has the opportunity to receive an education, but also saddened by the world of struggles she will face as well. I thought about my life as a 14 year old girl in the United States, (I think that year my youth soccer team, the Danvers Destiny, won the Massachusetts State Championship for the second time and I started my freshman year at GDA where I received the best education) and how I have essentially sailed through the past 7 years of my life with amazing familial and structural support that have allowed me to pursue my goals sans obstacles. And I think for one of the first times in my life, I truly feel passionate about something, or something that matters I guess. I was incredibly lucky to be born in the United States into the family I have, but there are girls just like me with hopes and dreams that are too soon shattered by structural barriers elsewhere. In the year 2012 that just doesn't make sense, and I am passionate about doing what I can to help eliminate that inequality. 

Soccer has been my passion, my main squeeze, throughout my life which has lead me here, and being here has lead me to see things and open my mind in new ways and has sparked another passion. Whether I will pursue that one next, I still don't know, but I think there's some quote about doing what you love, and the rest will figure itself out. While I have always been skeptical of that whole philosophy, I couldn't agree more.

And finally the video that I promised, and a better peek at what I've been doing for the past 90+ days.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZlewjqAkjYY

Amor, Paz, y Fútbol

KPope

Esta es mi mano.

We are housing a hot commodity in Tres Pisos right now, known in these parts as "Monopolio." The neighborhood kids ring our doorbell multiple times a day to ask if they can play it. Since it belongs to the organization, we only lend it out to our participants; Ana and Idania who live across the street or Milagro who lives next door. Milagro just turned seven earlier this year, and was finally able to join the Mariposas. She has the kind of smile that can make you forget all your problems in an instant and eyes for days.

Milagro has also been hanging out before her bedtime with Mady and me, which I enjoy very much because I don't get many chances to spend time with the Mariposas. Milagro is always giggling at me so it's hard to tell if she thinks I'm absolutely nuts or if she actually likes the jokes I make. I have a feeling its the first one, but nonetheless I enjoy her company because she makes me feel like I'm very funny. A side note: her monopoly rules crack me up.

Running the show

"You get nine 500s and fifteen 20s, and that's all."

Whoever lands on Vermont Avenue or New York Avenue not only will have to pay an absurd amount in rent, but they will need a special vehicle to squeeze between all those houses and hotels blocking the way

This past week, Milagro has been telling any of her friends who will listen, "Esta es mi mano! Aquí." (This is my hand! Right here) And then places her hand right on top of her tiny green handprint at the bottom right of our new mural. This repeated action, as well as seeing some other girls do the same thing on activity night, has made me realize that this fun painting project to brighten up our first floor actually holds some greater importance for these girls. It's a representation that they belong, and that they are crucial to the whole, for there would be an uncomfortable gap if their hand were missing. Some of these girls are physically abused in their homes, some don't have any supportive or admirable adult figures in their lives, many parents are absent, and it's near impossible for a child to feel significant in those kinds of situations. I have struggled with how to make these girls know that they are so important with more than just telling them because words only say so much. With the mural, they are able to physically see their own mark, and hopefully they know that it's important, and that is so important to me too--the project turned out to be more than I ever could have hoped for.

And on top of that, the fiesta on Tuesday was a blast. We had a piñata which lasted all of 10 minutes before Lupe smashed it open and everyone hit the floor to fight over the fallen goodies. Afterwards, DJ Techo pumped up the music and Helen hit the lights to set the mood and I felt like I was back at a middle school dance EXCEPT for the fact that no one waited an uncomfortable amount of time to be the awkward first person on the dance floor. Evvvveryone was dancing with no hint of embarrassment whatsoever, and those girls know how to move! I was even shy at first, embarrassed by my terrible white girl moves, but soon enough I was thrown in the center of a giant circle of Estrellas and egged on to break it down for them. I wore jeans for one of the first times since I've been down here, and my Estrellas gave me millions of compliments...maybe they're really sick of seeing my chicken legs every day? I was covered in sweat after 5 minutes, and immediately regretted my decision to wear jeans but enjoyed feeling fashionable for once. I enjoyed all of it; I thought back to the painful awkwardness of being 13 and 14 at "dances" and just relished in this culture instead--the joy, the natural ability, and the complete lack of self-consciousness.

At the end of the night I was able to show my video, despite some initial technical difficulties, and for the first time in awhile the night was a 100% success. It felt good.


Link for my video is on its way!


Amor, Paz, y Fútbol

KPope

I don't know if we each have a destiny...

or if we're all just floatin' around accidental-like on a breeze. But I think maybe its both." -Forrest Gump

I've never been a firm believer in fate. I don't even think I believe that everything always necessarily happens for a reason. I definitely fall on the floatin' side of Forrest Gump's debate; not neccesarily floating without direction or purpose, but very much at the mercy of unpredictable winds that can blow us off course at any given time. It is how we manage the things that we can control, as well as how we respond to things outside of our control that determines how we turn out at the end of this whole journey.

Sometimes, however, life makes me stop to reconsider.

The past few weeks, nothing has really fallen into place or come together easily. It has been a trying time of adapting and readapting to changing plans, problem solving on the fly, and making the best out of less than desirable circumstances; very much floatin'. This week, I put my workshop planning skills back to the test to celebrate the UN's first International Day of the Girl. On Tuesday, I showed the girls a video that I had put together that featured pictures and videos of girls playing sports around the world, as well as pictures of themselves to introduce the theme for the week and the party we were going to have on Friday. We recorded interviews to create our own movie, and created a mural on the first floor of Tres Pisos. On Tuesday, the Mariposas hand-painted and the Estrellas were interviewed and last night we switched roles. The interviews were hard to hear through the volume of laughter and shouting that fills the Tres on activity nights, the paint dripped everywhere and was hard to wash off. Also, the Estrellas were supposed to have a round robin mini soccer tournament yesterday afternoon (on October 11, which is the actual Day of the Girl) but there were baseball teams covering all of our available field space so they didn't get a chance to play. I could sense the frustration as they peeled their socks off and changed back out of their cleats.

After we returned to Tres Pisos and they had all added their hand-prints to the mural, they headed home and I headed upstairs to lay down for awhile. Twenty minutes later, Cándida showed up because she had missed the activity on Tuesday and wasn't aware that our activity was going to start earlier on Thursday because of the scheduled games. She also hadn't seen any part of the mural yet and paused to stare at it. I asked if she wanted to add her hand-print, so she did, but she remained staring at the wall and I could see the gears working in her head. "What's your vision? What do you want to add?" I asked her impulsively. The existing mural on the wall had been painstakingly drawn out and painted by César, and the 60+ little handprints surrounding it nearly completed the vision exactly as we had planned it out which was a pretty rare occurrence, especially in recent days. Handing 13 year old Cándida a paint brush, and opening the can of dark blue paint for her to add her own artistic touch was a risky and potentially terrible idea, but for some reason it just felt like what I was 'supposed' to do. She carefully dipped the tip of the brush into the paint and made her first stroke. She was amazing.

I was able to stream the most recent episode of one of my favorite shows, Modern Family, today. In the episode, Claire and Phil help Haley move in to college and Phil leaves her with a book of all the things that he has learned throughout his life, called "Phil's Osophy". They are mostly funny ridiculous sayings that don't make much sense, but one that he reads is, "The most amazing things that can happen to a human being will happen to you if you just lower your expectations."I think the past few weeks have naturally lowered my expectations a little bit as for expecting things to go as planned, to be executed well, etc. and though it may seem like a negative thing, it has created a space for amazing things to happen. Watching Cándida paint may sound like an inane event, but it sent chills up my spine and is a feeling I won't forget anytime soon. I handed her a brush that had the power to essentially ruin a lot of people's hard work, but I think there was a 'reason' she showed up to Tres Pisos last night that was bigger than just being misinformed. She was meant to complete and improve that mural, and she was meant to have that opportunity to showcase her talents in a visible and somewhat public place. And perhaps all these recent unfortunate events have happened to make me willing to hand over that paint brush and less set on sticking to a grand plan.

Original vision with the Mariposa hands

Xiomara making her mark

Karla gettin' messy

Cándida working her magic, Ana Paola there with moral support

Increíble

Still a work in progress, but we're getting there!

After Cándida left last night, I went out to pick up some food for dinner and while I was waiting in line on the street corner to order my frito, I heard My Way by Frank being sung karaoke style on the next street. "...and deed eet Maiiiii Waaaayyyy" (Nica style) and to steal a quote from my friend Lauren's blog (she is working as a volunteer at a school in the Dominican Republic this year) from the book Eat, Pray, Love and Elizabeth Gilbert writes, "I thought about one of my favorite Sufi poems, which says that God long ago drew a circle in the sand exactly around the spot where you are standing now. I was never not coming here. This was never not going to happen." I still think we're floatin' around accidental-like on a breeze, but a large part of me felt like I was very much meant to be in those exact places last night and to do the things I did, see the things I saw, and hear that song on that street corner. So I think maybe Forrest was right. Maybe it's both.

Today we aren't able to have our party because our next door neighbor's grandmother is very very sick and will probably pass away in the next few days and we want to leave her in peace out of respect. And that's okay. We will treat the girls to some ice cream, and have our party on Tuesday and I will have a few extra days to complete my video. I will keep you updated with the final project results and all that jazz.

Thank you Forrest Gump, Phil Dunphy, Lauren Carroll, and Cándida for challenging me to think in new and more open ways. I'm better for it.

Amor, paz, fútbol, y pintura (paint!)

KPope

A Day in the Life of Elle...kinda

Oops. I've been slacking on my blogging. Sorry to my few dedicated followers! Here are some October thaangs:

On Sunday, the Veteranas traveled to el Estadio Municipal de Fútbol Cacique Diriangen. Located in Diriamba, about half an hour west of Granada, it is one of the three national soccer stadiums in the country. We had the great opportunity to play against one of the Division 1 Women's Premier teams. My best friend from college, Ellery Gould, is currently playing Division 1 professional soccer for a club team in Sweden right now. At Bowdoin, she was the star of the team for four years and I was always just one of her groupies. We had an ongoing joke that I should just tell people I was going to play professional soccer too, in Nicaragua, but then it actually came close to true. Who'dofthunk?  When Larkin announced it to the team a few weeks earlier, their response was one of fear. "But those girls go running and stuff," was one reaction. The idea of conditioning or fitness is rarely considered in Nicaragua, mostly because the idea of intentionally sweating more than necessary seems pretty silly when sweat pours out of your body even if you're sitting down. Nonetheless, there was a feeling of excitement in the air. We left from Tres Pisos at 7:30am in a private bus this time and I learned that the funny phenomenon of taking pictures of teammates while they are sleeping on bus rides extends outside of my small Bowdoin bubble. I also was able to experience a bus ride sans handheld technology; my teammates interacted with each other and took in the scenery from outside rather than getting lost in an iPod, text conversation, or homework. It was a refreshing change.

We pulled up to the stadium, and the reaction from the girls when we entered was pretty priceless. A hush fell over the group as they tried to absorb everything around them: the beautifully manicured field, the stadium walls that climbed up to the sky (or so it felt) and just the feeling of stepping into an arena that regularly sees the best players in Nicaragua and feeling privileged to be a part of that group. Larkin had me lead the team in a warm-up, so I traveled back in time to Pickard Field in my all-white Polar Bears uniform and began the team jog out to half field and back singing "We Ready" by Archie Eversole under my breath. The girls laughed at my high knees and butt kicks, and complained about the final sprinting at the end of the warm-up, but in that moment I felt such a strong connection to the role I have always played on my teams in the past; I've never ever been the best player but have always devoted my energy to bringing up the energy level of everybody else on the squad, and despite the radically different place and situation I found myself in, I could still find myself. I felt grounded before the game started, despite my wild nerves that were making my hands shake and my breaths short and quick.

I wore 25 on my back again, but this time wore 22 on my shorts (Ellery's jersey number). I figured if I was going to be in a Div. 1 game, I would need some luck from a fellow Div. 1 professional... but it turns out luck is only part of the equation. We also needed better conditioning, faster foot skills, and organized game play--all of which the opposing team already had pretty down pat. It was definitely a David vs. Goliath match up, but this time Goliath won pretty handily. It took us awhile to get used to the speed of play, and they took advantage of our first half jitters. In the second half, we settled in and it was a much more even keeled competition. We even scored! I crossed a ball into the box from the left wing and Larkin finished it into the back of the net! (and then the ref called it back because he said the goalie already had possession...but that part isn't important...) Despite the result, our team left the field with our heads held high because if nothing else, it was fun. It was fun to be challenged at such a high level, it was fun to play in that kind of location, it was fun to cheer each other on and work so hard as a unit to achieve a common goal. I had missed the full body soreness that followed in the days to come; a feeling of pride.

As for what's coming up:

This entire week we are celebrating the International Day of the Girl, which is a newly recognized day that falls on October 11. Girls in all the Soccer Without Borders programs around the world are also celebrating which is a really cool thing, I think. It's especially cool in this culture because being a girl that plays soccer in Granada has sort of a rebellious and revolutionizing context and our participants show up every day so eager to play and so proud to be a part of their teams. To give emphasis to this greater significance, I planned a week full of mini projects (a group art project, and some interview projects) that will culminate on Friday when we have a fiesta for our girls, full of cake and games, and show them a video that I have yet to make but it will include footage of them as well as footage from other young female soccer players around the world (and hopefully once I'm done I'll figure out a way to post it to this blog). I'm excited to give them the spotlight all week, they sure do deserve it!

The entrance

Wooooo!

One way to paint the lines on a field

Hanging out before warm-ups

Da squaaad

Still doin' it for the U Bears

Our very formal Coach Chep: Ray-Bans, a pinnie, and skinny jeans? Hmmm

Chicas on the bench

Amor, paz, fútbol, and still sore but happy legs

KPope