Our final day found us in the northern department of Madriz, in the town of Somoto.  We made an early departure in order to take the long, slow drive to Venecia, a tiny wide-spot-in-the-road where the women of COMUNEC cooperative would be meeting.  The road is barely a road; four-wheel drive low is a blessing and a need, and we may have averaged 5-10 miles per hour for the hour to get there.  The region is as scenic as any spot on earth but for the occasional reminders along the way of how many of the rural poor must live, in marginal dwellings that barely qualify as sheds.  The way up the mountain is stunning: stunning in both its exquisite nature and its intense poverty.

The meeting to which we have been invited is essentially a one-year celebration of the formation of this group and Winds of Peace support of it.  The women arrive on foot, many having come from long distances.  One young woman has hiked for three hours down the mountain to where we have gathered.  Her neighbor has traveled even further, although with the luxury of a horse.  We meet inside the house of one of the members, a smiling, ebullient woman who is as fussy about her guests as any socialite ever was, even within the sparse darkness of her dwelling.  But the energy level is high; the chattering and laughter fills the room.  Shyly, every woman in the room offers a hand of welcome.

This scenario is not uncommon among the visits we make during my time in Nicaragua.   Certainly, groups are always eager to thank those who have provided resources of any kind.  And Nicaraguans in general have always shown themselves to be gracious and friendly in whatever the setting.  So the start of our visit with the women of COMUNEC was not singular by any means.  What it evolved to was something else.

The women began telling their stories of the past year, of how they sought to create an economic initiative of their own, of how their husbands were invited to deed one manzana (1.68 acres) of land to their wives, of how 34 actually did so, of how that transfer created access to funding for the cultivation and care of the land, and how the harvest was now fulfilling dreams.  These are moving stories of individuals who likely have never belonged to any organized group in their lives, who have lived lives of exclusion under the authority of their husbands, and who yearn for their own voices and standing in precisely the same way that women from western societies do.  And maybe for the first time in their lives, they are beginning to feel the empowerment of such achievements.

The stories are told quietly but with confidence, until one young woman stood to share her experience; it was the woman who had hiked for hours.  And her recitation immediately elevated both the impact of the meeting as well as the self-assurances of everyone else in the room.

Her name is Gladis del Socorro Herrera.  She articulated what was held in the hearts of the others in the room and injected an energy and passion that was tangible.  ”To say that I have my own plot of land, that’s a beautiful thing.  It is the first thing I have ever owned that is truly mine.  I can hardly believe that I was out there on this piece of land that was mine! ”  The excitement in her voice was tempered only by the slight quiver of emotion as she spoke it.  I had been attentive to the others prior to this, but Gladis spoke with a fervor that grabbed me entirely.

“This chance makes us owners of something, something that belongs to us, and an experience that we can share with one another, these sisters.  Sharing our excitement, our experiences, our training and our learning, is wonderful!  To have had our heads filled with knowledge, we are brand new people!”   I would never presume to say that I know what Gladis was really feeling, but I do know that her words sent chills up my spine and drew a tear from my eye, such was the power of her testimony.  Her unfiltered, uncensored joy over this simple plot of land- its importance in her life, and how it had even strengthened the relationship with her husband as they compared notes and counseled with one another about the harvest- spoke eloquently about its impact.  Her enthusiasm prompted others to speak with emotion, as well.

“I had never taken a loan before.  I was always frightened about such things.  But the trainings have removed my fears; I’m past that.  I understand how the loan works and it has changed me.”  These small loans from the coop were transformative in small but very personal ways.  I noted especially the reactions of several women in the room who had not yet joined the cooperative and who were as riveted by the stories as I was.  I thought that I perceived looks of hopefulness, if such can be identified.

The elements of life which give us hope, which satisfy our longings and fill us with happiness are likely far different from what we in “developed” countries identify as gratifying; I often find myself asking the question of who is really the more developed?  For one small group of Nicaraguan women, joy has come not from riches or technologies or accumulation of things, but from a plot of earth that they have as their own and the pleasures of sharing such a rare experience with others.

“If you’ve come to take something away from this visit, take our happiness in being able to work together; that is our wealth.”  I did come away with a clear sense of their happiness, and it’s a lesson that perhaps we would all do well to understand….

Last week, however, I had an entirely different experience with a banking operation in Nicaragua.  I visited again with The Nicaraguan Association for Sustainable Development (ANIDES) and its visionary leader, Gloria Elena Ordoñez Vargas.  This is an individual and an organization that understands what banking is supposed to be like, and it puts to shame most of the other organizations I know that go by the name “bank.”

Winds of Peace has funded ANIDES previously, in an effort to assist the organization with the establishment of five communal banks.  These are small, local banking offices to promote the economic and organizational autonomy of more than 200 women who live in extreme poverty in very rural locations.  Indeed, the offices more often than not are simply the homes of the local leaders.  But what these banks have been able to do, what they have represented for the women members is nothing short of remarkable.

With a very modest funding by Winds of Peace, in a little more than a year ANIDES has been able to establish a revolving credit fund for the 220+ members, establish two business groups to coordinate independent “home” businesses, provide training in the creation of a savings culture, nurture a positive capital growth in each of the small banks established, offer education and assistance to women victims of domestic violence, enhance the access to basic food needs and boost the local economies of the communities served.  This is banking in its most holistic form, integrating elements that are social, organizational, cultural, economic, human, spiritual and environmental in scope.  When was the last time your bank inquired about your social, human or spiritual needs?

What is even more remarkable about this initiative’s success is that it is being achieved with women members who have almost no previous economic experience or training.  Meeting with the women for the first time last September, I was struck by their shyness and humility, but also with their tenacity (many came from miles away on foot) and their outright success: only one of the small community banks was showing deficits by its neophyte members.  Members themselves were providing the tracking, the follow-up and the solidarity with one another to make sure that their borrowing was matched by their repayments.  In other words, the bank existed to facilitate both the needs and the strengths of its members, not to impose onerous conditions that would encourage failure.  What a novel concept for banking.  What an amazing impact on the lives of some very poor people.

The intended extension of this banking project is that the women, who now have softened some of their previous fears about borrowing money, might be encouraged to invest in the improvement of their rudimentary homes and living conditions, including the installation of ecological toilets.  This amenity- sounding so essential to so many of us- has been considered an absolute luxury by many rural residents.  With the presence of the communal banks to accompany them, such an amenity now seems within reach, and along with it rises the self-esteem of the women who can provide it.  The existence of a small bank can allow these women to take control of their lives in ways they previously could not.

What can a bank do?  Merely channel the empowerment of its members, provide access to credit and tools for investment, facilitate education to recognize and respond to gender oppression, encourage healthy habitat conditions, grow self-esteem, foster economic autonomy and teach people how to take more control of their own lives.  In a world where the future for many banking institutions seems to include implosion, we could learn a great many lessons from these communal banks in Nicaragua.  It might even beg the question, “Who really is the more developed….?”

Timing is everything.  The Foundation’s primary collaborators on the work we have been doing with coffee cooperatives in Nicaragua had just completed an article about the development and challenges of coffee cooperatives when the Times article was published.  So after you’ve had the opportunity to read the relatively short Times article, take a look at the perspective of some folks who are working intimately with cooperatives at all levels: first, second and third-tier.  It makes for some interesting comparisons, and may help you decide which side of the fair trade argument you might be on.  It just may impact the way that you buy coffee or any other so-called fair trade products….

I know they are doing good work because they say so.  Their newsletters are full of pictures of partners who have either raised a successful crop, started a new business, raised some farm animals or otherwise benefitted from the presence of the donor.  I’ve even profiled some of our own partners here and elsewhere on the website as we attempt to share the methodologies and resulting successes (we hope) of our work.  It’s a natural outgrowth of organizations which, at some point in their work, need to justify their efforts and tout their results.  If they don’t, perhaps nobody will.

But as I have read these reports (often with a request for additional donations), I have increasingly found myself thinking beyond the efforts of the charitable organization and looked for the presence of Nicaraguans themselves.  They are always in the picture, if not within the focus, and it is their success and results which should matter more than the metrics of the donor organizations which support them.  I’m convinced that such is not always the case, particularly when I read what is being measured as success.

One of the hallmarks of Winds of Peace is the degree of accompaniment and follow-up involved in our partnering.  So we gain a pretty good, first-hand picture of the impact of funding, the efforts of the funded, the changes experienced, the goals attained and the objectives missed. We’ve had the experience of hearing governing boards explaining what went wrong in credit.  We’ve had boards of directors take us to worksites where the aspiring entrepreneur shows off the gains of his/her efforts.  We’ve experienced long and short-term successes, as well as long and short-term failures, taken some risks we shouldn’t have and perhaps rejected some proposals we should have supported.  Those realities are simply part of the work that we are in.  But we should never forget that we are merely facilitators, catalysts in this process of development, and that the real work is always the province of Nicaraguans.  It is their persistence, their tenacity, their commitments which make for our organizational metrics.  Even where the actions are provided from the outside, they require the engagement of Nicaraguan participants to make the effort work.

Our organizations might point to any number of successes in our colorful, uplifting media, but triumphs are truly not ours to sound.  The hard work- the good work, where it is being done- is performed by Nicaraguans whom we serve.  We might suggest that the work is really a partnership, that successes are shared benefits.  But let’s not lose sight of the fact that at the end of the day most of us return to lives that are stable, predictable, secure and relatively comfortable.  For most of our Nicaraguan partners, such respite is not the case.  The unpredictability, uncertainty and day-to-day reality makes for a very different context in which to execute the plans, provisions and outcomes that our carefully-considered projects have imagined.  Simply stated, it ain’t easy.

My post-holiday reflection may seem to be wandering here a bit.  But don’t misinterpret my thoughts: I deeply appreciate the work that is being done all over Nicaragua in a spirit of intense commitment and support by many outside organizations, including Winds of Peace.  It’s just that before accepting any kudos or pats on the back for whatever impacts may be made, we need to recognize where the hard work, the good work is being done, and by whom….

At one point in the conversation, she observed her own discomforts of late, saying that despite the charitable gifts that she and her husband had made thus far during the season, she thought the gifts to be inadequate, insufficient, too insignificant to have any meaning for those who are in great need.   She wondered aloud if she was doing enough, whether she could be doing something more meaningful to make a difference in someone else’s life.  I noted that the tone of her voice had dropped rather dramatically by the time she came to this juncture as she envisioned just how enormous the “needs of others” really are at home in the U.S. and around the world.

Such reflections are not uncommon, perhaps especially at this time of year.  Yesterday morning my physician mused about the very same point, saying that he thinks of himself as an active “peace and justice guy” but  speculating about the threshold of sufficiency.  ”Do I literally give the shirt off my back?” he wondered.  ”How do I handle that with my own family?”  Wow!  Quite suddenly I have found myself surrounded by deep philosophical and moral questions relating to the poor.  Unfortunately, my own answers feel as insufficient as my daughter’s charity seems to her.

I suppose these kinds of topics come up due to the work that Winds of Peace Foundation has undertaken in working with the very poor in Nicaragua.  But I have yet to develop a satisfying answer to those who wonder if and how they could possibly make a dent in the needs of the world.  How can I even begin to clarify that question for others when it’s the same nagging uncertainty that I experience myself when confronted with the economic and social injustices that exist in the lives of those with whom we partner?  But as unsatisfying as it may be, I have acquired a perspective which at least allows me sufficient calm to get to sleep at night.

It is this: we are only and fully capable  of doing what we can do.  For Bill and Melinda Gates, the scope of monetary capacity is enormous and their resources can change the landscape of an entire region.  For a grade-school child, a visit to the local food shelf or nursing home can touch someone in ways that money cannot.  The nature or size of the gift is not how it’s value is measured.  Rather, it is measured against what we are capable of being or doing in someone else’s life.  It’s a cliched notion, of course, but it has only become trite through its universal and eternal truth.

I like to think of us as existing on a continuum, where every human being is placed according to his/her capacity to give, whether money, goods, time, spirit, or whatever else we have been blessed with.  We see ourselves as somehow being “ranked” on this continuum, thus frequently gazing upward and fantasizing about what it must be like to be “higher up” on the placements.  We fantasize about what we might be willing to do if only we possessed the money, the skills, the connections or the temperament of those higher up on the scale.  But what we must not lose sight of is that at that exact same moment, there are others on that continuum who are gazing upward at us, as well, and fantasizing about what they might be willing to do if only they could be in our shoes. Our reality is that we all have more to give than we do, more time than we admit, and a capacity for greater sacrifices to make without pain.

And perhaps greater responsibility than we like to admit.  The answer to the dilemma is to be found in our own hearts and minds, and will therefore be as different as we are from one another.  What we owe to ourselves- and the rest of the world around us- is an honest, thoughtful consideration of the quandry.  That exercise won’t guarantee the “right” answer, but we’ll never come even close to a right answer without asking the question….

The United Nations General Assembly has declared 2012 as the International Year of Cooperatives, highlighting the contribution of cooperatives to socio-economic development, particularly their impact on poverty reduction, employment generation and social integration.  With the theme of “Cooperative Enterprises Build a Better World”, the Year seeks to encourage the growth and establishment of cooperatives all over the world. It also encourages individuals, communities and governments to recognize the agency of cooperatives in helping to achieve internationally agreed upon development goals, such as the Millennium Development Goals.                     -U.N. IYC Webpage Introduction

It’s about time.  Finally, there is light being shown on a methodology which has for too long been relegated to the very back pages of economic and organizational development.  Like one of its cousins in the U.S., employee ownership, cooperativism has the potential to create sustainable and meaningful change for organizations and individuals alike, and the U.N. declaration hopes to advance that awareness around the world.  I know that we will be taking note with our partners in Nicaragua.

The themes are entirely consistent with the focus and methodologies that Winds of Peace has employed over the past year, in particular:

Cooperatives are not a panacea or even a simple way of organizing an economic enterprise.  In fact, when done with excellence, coops are a more complex way of doing business.  There is a demand for more and better communication among the participants.  Participants come to expect more information about the causes-and-effects of their business, decisions are more frequently made by participant teams rather than one individual, participants expect to have a greater “say” in the business, the organizational configuration often more closely resembles a circle than a triangle, and coops as a result sometimes respond more slowly to changing circumstances.  But when done with excellence, coops can promote business growth, learning, entrepreneurial skills individual development and accelerated wealth creation faster than more traditional forms of ownership/management.  It’s why the U.N. has taken such a visible stand with its declaration.  And it’s why Winds of Peace has provided increasing support to the coops of Nicaragua.  The good news is that we know what the excellent practices consist of and that they can be learned and replicated anywhere.

Read the advantages cited by the IYC in its description of coop strengths:

• Cooperative enterprises build a better world.
• Cooperative enterprises are member owned, member serving and member driven
• Cooperatives empower people
• Cooperatives improve livelihoods and strengthen the economy
• Cooperatives enable sustainable development
• Cooperatives promote rural development
• Cooperatives balance both social and economic demands
• Cooperatives promote democratic principles
• Cooperatives and gender: a pathway out of poverty
• Cooperatives: a sustainable business model for youth

What if the idea of being in power pertained not to the ability to force one’s will on others- whether individuals, organizations, nations- but rather to be the one first in line to offer help, solace, sustenance, education.  Would the now-upside down nature of governments and corporations alike compete for recognition as the best among their peers in creating sustainability, sufficiency, and being the best stewards of the abundance that the world has to offer? The world might create a new definition of fame and fortune wherein leaders would be extolled for their servanthood instead of their domination.

What if the notion of having enough to eat referenced the minimal amount which we needed for sustenance rather than how many additional calories we were able to consume as a show of our success and abundance?  Would we not only not want a second helping of Thanksgiving dinner, but also feel insulted at the idea of eating more than was needed?  And what would that mean to our health?  The world might soon discover that food is not a symbol but a right of every living thing, and that as such, there is plenty of it on earth.

What if we were somehow able to view ourselves as all part of a magnificent quilt, whose beauty was comprised of different colors and textures which made for the exquisite whole, rather than exhausting ourselves in the pursuit of identifying differences which do not exist?  Would harnessing the strength of collaboration create a new source of atomic power  in the process?  Understanding how my own well-being is directly tied to the well-being of everyone else might cause a new form of fusion.  The world might suddenly find that its energy crisis had been quite different than it imagined beforehand.

What if we were born with the bias toward inclusion and regarded exclusion as some sort of abomination?  What if this was our only bias? Would we be able to see ourselves more clearly as a result, and thus know our place in the world, the universe, differently?  Would that make a difference? The world might discover a meaning and a purpose for itself which reaches far beyond the atmosphere of this very tiny place in the cosmos.

What if the questions here represented reality instead of sounding like fantasy?  How would my life be different?  What might have been my experiences in such a world?  What might I have known, learned, lived?

I find myself musing over such ” what if” questions from time to time, especially during the holidays when the blessings that I have received in my life are so particularly clear.  But it’s the perfect time of year to revisit such questions, as each of us seeks gifts to give, perfect and meaningful symbols of friendship and love, and preferably ones which have never been received before.  There are perfect gifts to be given.  They will not be found at midnight in a department store, but rather, deep within our psyches and waiting to be discovered and freely given, as they have been since the dawn of humankind.  It’s a new type of “shopping” that we must do if we truly seek the greatest bargain of all….

First, like all too many residents of the United States, I grew up and was educated in a cocoon of sorts.  While I understood that there was this thing called poverty in the world, I never had to come face-to-face with it.  Reading about it and perhaps participating in some safe, classroom discussions about it were as far as I was required to go in confronting the topic and that was just fine with me.  Once out of college, I married, set about the task of finding work, creating a career, having a family and pursuing my own part of the “American dream.”   Drawing upon those earlier, brief exposures to the reality of poverty in the world, I never lost sight of what I perceived to be my (limited) role in addressing it: charitable giving became an early and important part of our household budgeting, done comfortably at arm’s-length with a check through the mail.  But I never allowed myself to inch much closer to the truth of poverty.  In fact, I was never able to embrace the issue of poverty as my own responsibility  until I traveled to Central America and came face-to-face with live human beings immersed in need.  Then it became real.

Unfortunately, that’s the way it is with most of us.  Awareness is only afforded to those realities which are directly in front of us and which can therefore demand our attention.  But most of us will never travel to the poorest regions of the world.  And the only means by which I can address that reality is through sharing my own experiences from visits that I have had the good fortune to make.  The great sorrow and shame that is poverty in our world is too easy to overlook, too comfortable to forget, without some kinds of reminders to penetrate our consciousness.  I have family, friends, colleagues and acquaintances who have curiosity about Winds of Peace and who thus follow what I write here, so my entries provide one tiny pinprick of reminder about the contrast between our lives and the ones about which I write.  And that awareness is a necessity, whether it’s comprised of fifty readers or just one.

Second, I feel the need to put a face on all of this.  One of my difficulties in seeing poverty as belonging to me was the impersonality of it.  By remaining at safe distance, by relegating it to statistics and percentages and far-off lands, the issue could never become a personal one.  Throughout my entire high school years I did not personally know any poor person .  Churches were not yet creating opportunities for such encounters.  Holiday service opportunities, if they did exist, were unknown to me.  But when a young Nicaraguan boy, after seeing the photos of my own Korean-born children, asked me whether I might adopt him as well, the hook had been set in my heart.  My clear belief is that we all need such a hook, not because we are “bad” people ignoring the poor, but because we have not been given the chance to feel the heartbreak of impoverishment in the lives of others.  We’re all capable of feeling that connection and these essays are sometimes aimed at exactly that target.

Third, perhaps I am “selling” something, as well.  Wrapped up within the emotions and experiences described above is the hope that somehow I might reach someone else who is just like me at that earlier time.  That individual has remained insulated from the discomfort of an impoverished world, is someone who could be open to genuinely caring about the fate and future of people unknown to him/her, who simply needs a small push to be jostled from the comfort of a privileged life.  Maybe these reflections of mine could motivate even one person to step out from the shadows of insensibility to seize some greater responsibility for a humanity that is in tremendous need, not for solving all of the world’s problems, but for lightening the load for just one other life.

Fourth and finally, these entries are as much for me as they are for you, the readers.  Having had the chance to get close to the Nicaraguan reality, I have experienced what many travelers experience when confronting another space in the world.  My emotions run the gamut each time I’m in Nicaragua: I see despair, I hear great hope, I observe inspirational perseverance, I am frustrated by our human proclivities and shortsightedness.  I am disoriented every time I return to the United States.  I need days to step back into the perspective of an affluent North American when I know that I cannot entirely do so, not in light of the circumstances I have just left behind.  I order something from an Internet site with little more than a thought, and then find myself  weeping at the inequity of being able to do so. I am amazed at what my Nicaraguan connections have taught me, about a different society, alternative ways of looking at our world, our spirituality, our selves.  Writing about these juxtapositions is a healthy thing for me, an outlet to expunge some of the conflicting and unresolved emotions that inevitably come with getting close to people who are not just like me.  I have experienced more personal questing and growth in the past six years than in the previous twenty, thanks to the wisdom and lives of people whose language I do not even speak.  I know the need to express my gratitude and amazement at such an unanticipated transformation.

So there is my motivation for what you read here from time to time.  I doubt that it represents great writing, tight strategy, effective philanthropy or even observational sociology.  But if it provides even one insight about what is undeniably an injustice to the human condition- and therefore to ourselves- then the writing has been an appropriate use of time.  We are capable of being only as well as those who are around us.  That wellness is global in its scope and the strengthening begins one at a time….

Part of that representation has taken the form of essays, or blogs, which I have placed here.  These musings have been a valuable asset for me to help sort out a multitude of mixed feelings that have occurred to me over these years.  Working between two very distinct cultures and world views, I have often encountered contradictory feelings on a wide range of issues, both political and social in nature.  Writing about such issues has helped me to process those feelings, as well as provide a forum for sharing them with people who have an interest in what Winds of Peace is doing.  I have logged over 100 of these meanderings here; for that I beg your pardon and indulgence.

So it was not unusual this week that I completed writing a piece in follow-up to the November general election in Nicaragua, one in which President Daniel Ortega was re-elected for another five years, to no one’s surprise.  A number of elements surrounding the election felt eerily similar to what I am experiencing here in the U.S. as our own election season gathers steam.  Consequently, I wrote about those similarities as I saw them and drew parallels between the two processes.  It was tough writing for me, and I never got into the flow of the essay in the way that I often do when composing.  When a chance conversation with Mark touched on the aftermath of the Nicaraguan election, I asked him whether he might review my essay and give me his thoughts, which he did.  (It’s not something I ask of Mark; the words are meant to be mine and, besides, Mark doesn’t need the extra work.)  His comments were excellent and presented from the perspective of a Nicaraguan, which he is.  As a result, I chose not to post the article, not because Mark “didn’t like it” or thought it was somehow inappropriate, but because reading it as a Nicaraguan was different than writing it as a North American.  For anyone intent on truly contributing to positive change in Nicaragua, that’s an Achilles heel.

I’ve spent a good deal of time and energy getting to know something about our neighbors to the south.  I’ve traveled there three or four times every year, I read periodicals written by Nicaraguan leaders and academics, I’ve come to know many of the issues facing our three primary partner groups: women, Indigenous people and the rural poor.  We have funded nearly two-hundred projects during my six years.  I even study Spanish (with some futility) so that I might understand more directly the difficulties being expressed by these tenacious and persevering people in their struggle for simply sustainable living.  Mark performs a yeoman’s duty to keep me informed of issues affecting Nicaraguan life.  I read books about the history and legacy of past years.  I do this because I am interested, because Winds of Peace does desire to make a positive impact in the lives of Nicaraguans.  But no matter the number of years nor the length of trips, I will never be Nicaraguan.

I cannot quickly absorb the lingering pains of a war which tore the country apart for so long.  I cannot re-live the seemingly endless natural disasters which have claimed so many lives and livelihoods.  I have not been trapped within a geography which has lent itself to invasion, occupation, exploitation and marginalization.  I have not known, truly lived, in poverty.  Likewise, I cannot feel the sense of familial antiquity, the honor of native generations spent in stewardship of ancestral lands or the pride of being Nicaraguan.  I can know these things, but I cannot live them.

As a result, I come dangerously close to presumption when trying to write with intimacy about political cause and effect, or religious motivation or social condition.  And I cross over the borderline if being prescriptive about how to create change.   My making judgments about the Nicaraguan election is an arrogance, because what I see and what I feel is filtered through my own life experiences, not that of a Nicaraguan.  In the end, comparisons I might feel inclined to make are valid only for me and my very personal perspective.  I have not earned the honor and the right to speak for Nicaraguans;  I can only offer my narrow opinion.  Nicaraguans are owed that respect.  And that’s why there is no election blog here this week, or ever.

As I reflect on these words, I am struck by another truth by extension.  Ultimately, speaking on behalf of ourselves is the best and most that any of us can do, because we do not truly walk in any other man’s or woman’s shoes, only our own.  We can articulate what we believe and why we believe it, we can model that belief and even proclaim why we might feel that someone else might be strengthened by it, but not why they must believe it.  There’s a big difference between those two approaches.  It’s one that I wish was more widely-recognized throughout our country as we seemingly become less tolerant day by day.

It’s one more belief I’ve learned from Nicaragua, and one which those of us who purport to offer assistance and leadership in any endeavor would do well to remember….

A good deal of what we have heard and read about the plight of Nicaraguan education has to do with the social implications of an undereducated nation. And it’s true that the limitations on education there have contributed mightily to many of the difficulties experienced.  When a large percentage of a nation’s population exits the education system before the fourth grade, social imbalances are certain to exist in ways that create hardships on the very society that permits the secession.  Matters of health, families, gender equality, sexual violence, substance abuse, and technology all impact national development in far-reaching ways, and require at least a minimum educational base for the people who will be required to step up to such issues.  Few would disagree that an educated populace will be far better equipped to address the issues than one which is not.

But the further I acquaint myself with education challenges of a place like Nicaragua,  the more clearly I understand that as great as the impact of undereducation is on social development, education is, at its core, an economic issue.  Simply put, those who are educated for the future are the only ones who will prosper in it.  And that requires financial investment, perseverance and patience on the part of the societies seeking such prosperity.

The days of making a living by virtue of a strong back and a willingness to get dirty are soon to be of the past, even in Nicaragua.  Rural peasants can still plant crops and harvest by hand, but eventually that harvest will be sold.  Increasingly, this means interface with buyers, understanding markets, knowing free trade and fair trade, developing the skills of collaborative work and institutional strengthening.  The desire for such knowledge may be innate in all humans, but the methodologies of its application must be learned.  In a global marketplace, it’s the essence of economic survival.  In todays’s world, educational advancements are not only a national measure, but also a comparison across the world’s economy.  Rural producers in coffee cooperatives may not need an MBA or an understanding of global marketplaces, but they do require an understanding of how their cooperative should be bringing value to their harvests.  They may not require an understanding of Starbuck’s strategic direction over the next five years, but they do need to know the essence of “the game they are playing,” how the score is kept, how runs are scored and what every member’s contribution to the effort must be.  Reliance upon someone else to tell us what we ought to be doing in our own self-interest creates lots of vulnerabilities.  Winds of Peace will continue to seek ways of building sustainable self-reliance in Nicaragua, not only by providing funding of grants and microloans, but also by accentuating the urgency of enhanced education opportunities.

My involvement in such an initiative seems ludicrous in some ways: my own academic profile is, in my view, much less than it could/should have been.  I never starred in any classes, never completed a post-graduate degree, have never worked within an education system, and years ago could barely help my children with their high school math!  I fully recognize that I’ve had far more opportunities for education than my intellect may show.  But I also know that I love to read, and that I have a curiosity about life and living, and an enthusiasm for new ideas and different ways of looking at the world.  I figure that those traits likely arose from my educational endeavors somewhere along the line, and for that I feel very fortunate.  My education did not point me to a successful career, but I know that it opened my mind and my possibilities.

Educational development may be a good thing in its own right, and as a human right.  But at its core, especially in this time of turmoil and ultra-competition, education is an economic matter.  Come to think of it, it’s not only a critical lesson for the people of Nicaragua, but one which we in North America would do well to remember as our own educational and economic grades continue to fall on the global report card….