2008 Woodie Awards
Learning about life, love, dignity and pride in Central America
Christine Keogh
Issue date: 3/28/08 Section: Commentary
Doña Nieves never ceases to amaze me.
Although life with her pushed me from my comfort zone, she showed me what it means to be a neighbor and to be happy.
Last summer, I went on an immersion trip called the Mev Puleo Scholarship, through the Department of Theological Studies. With two Saint Louis University students and a guide, I spent two months with a Nicaraguan family, volunteering at a nutrition center for children.
Although small and underdeveloped, with poverty lining the streets, Nicaragua is actually rich. This might bewilder some, but trust me: It's true.
I am reminded of when I was younger and I would ask my dad, "We're not very rich, are we?" He would respond, with his dry sarcasm, "Christine, we are rich in love."
I know-that's about as sappy as it gets. But in the case of Nicaragua, and especially people like Nieves, the woman who opened her home to me, it's the truth.The people of Nicaragua always said, "Go back and tell what you have seen." I'll tell you what I saw in her.
In Nieves, I saw a woman who was proud of what she has, not ashamed of what she went without. She was proud to offer a healthy and comforting breakfast, lunch and dinner. She was proud to make a delicious, inexpensive meal, with or without meat. She was proud of the tea she made for me when I was feeling sick. She was proud of the dresses she sewed for customers around the neighborhood.
She was proud of being an independent woman, who did not need a "good-for-nothing husband." She was proud of her home, which was much bigger than the one she grew up in. She was proud to tell stories, and of the Nicaraguan folkloric dance she took me to see. She was proud of the fact that she can cure herself of just about anything with herbal remedies. She was proud to teach me how to cook. She was proud to laugh and make jokes.
Nieves was proud to have raised a child as if he were her own because he had nowhere else to go. She was proud of her neighborhood, which is full of friends who would certainly help her in a bind. She was proud that everyone turned to her for advice. She was proud to clean her house every day. She was proud of her daughter, who is in school studying veterinary sciences; of her nephew, who was killed in the Contra War in the 1980s; and of her brother, who still lives on her parents' farm, carrying out their work.
Nieves was proud to be from Nagarote-known as the "cleanest city in Nicaragua." She was proud to share the beautiful poetry she wrote about her mother. She was proud to be a new grandma, and of the grandkids she already had, who stay with her on the weekends. She was proud to make the best pancakes in the world.
She was proud to be a leader in her community and church. She was proud to go to the market and stop a potential thief in his tracks. She was proud to sit in her rocking chair and watch the telenovela La Esclava Isaura every night at 6 p.m. She was proud to have SLU and Xavier University students stay in her home. She was proud of the life she lives.
When I think of Nicaragua, I think of Nieves and the kindness she showed me. She touched my heart, not with her luxuries, but with her humanity. Although Nieves lives in one of the poorest countries in the Western Hemisphere, she lives with pride and dignity.
Often, we in the United States forget about the rest of the world-particularly those less fortunate than ourselves. We forget that they, too, have families and careers, and that they deserve the same respect that we expect for ourselves.
Although Nieves does not have the resources to be called rich by our economic understanding, she certainly is rich, according to my father's definition.
She opened her home, her life and her family to me and showed me what it really means to be a neighbor. Although a great distance separates us, Nieves made it quite clear that I will always have a home in Nicaragua.
Christine Keogh is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences.
Although life with her pushed me from my comfort zone, she showed me what it means to be a neighbor and to be happy.
Last summer, I went on an immersion trip called the Mev Puleo Scholarship, through the Department of Theological Studies. With two Saint Louis University students and a guide, I spent two months with a Nicaraguan family, volunteering at a nutrition center for children.
Although small and underdeveloped, with poverty lining the streets, Nicaragua is actually rich. This might bewilder some, but trust me: It's true.
I am reminded of when I was younger and I would ask my dad, "We're not very rich, are we?" He would respond, with his dry sarcasm, "Christine, we are rich in love."
I know-that's about as sappy as it gets. But in the case of Nicaragua, and especially people like Nieves, the woman who opened her home to me, it's the truth.The people of Nicaragua always said, "Go back and tell what you have seen." I'll tell you what I saw in her.
In Nieves, I saw a woman who was proud of what she has, not ashamed of what she went without. She was proud to offer a healthy and comforting breakfast, lunch and dinner. She was proud to make a delicious, inexpensive meal, with or without meat. She was proud of the tea she made for me when I was feeling sick. She was proud of the dresses she sewed for customers around the neighborhood.
She was proud of being an independent woman, who did not need a "good-for-nothing husband." She was proud of her home, which was much bigger than the one she grew up in. She was proud to tell stories, and of the Nicaraguan folkloric dance she took me to see. She was proud of the fact that she can cure herself of just about anything with herbal remedies. She was proud to teach me how to cook. She was proud to laugh and make jokes.
Nieves was proud to have raised a child as if he were her own because he had nowhere else to go. She was proud of her neighborhood, which is full of friends who would certainly help her in a bind. She was proud that everyone turned to her for advice. She was proud to clean her house every day. She was proud of her daughter, who is in school studying veterinary sciences; of her nephew, who was killed in the Contra War in the 1980s; and of her brother, who still lives on her parents' farm, carrying out their work.
Nieves was proud to be from Nagarote-known as the "cleanest city in Nicaragua." She was proud to share the beautiful poetry she wrote about her mother. She was proud to be a new grandma, and of the grandkids she already had, who stay with her on the weekends. She was proud to make the best pancakes in the world.
She was proud to be a leader in her community and church. She was proud to go to the market and stop a potential thief in his tracks. She was proud to sit in her rocking chair and watch the telenovela La Esclava Isaura every night at 6 p.m. She was proud to have SLU and Xavier University students stay in her home. She was proud of the life she lives.
When I think of Nicaragua, I think of Nieves and the kindness she showed me. She touched my heart, not with her luxuries, but with her humanity. Although Nieves lives in one of the poorest countries in the Western Hemisphere, she lives with pride and dignity.
Often, we in the United States forget about the rest of the world-particularly those less fortunate than ourselves. We forget that they, too, have families and careers, and that they deserve the same respect that we expect for ourselves.
Although Nieves does not have the resources to be called rich by our economic understanding, she certainly is rich, according to my father's definition.
She opened her home, her life and her family to me and showed me what it really means to be a neighbor. Although a great distance separates us, Nieves made it quite clear that I will always have a home in Nicaragua.
Christine Keogh is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences.
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