POST by RENZY: Mouse Management

As you know there are mice everywhere. The mice here in Cedro Galan are medium size, well at my house anyway. One time we saw a mouse run across the floor whilst Fran, my parents and of course I, were watching a movie. Fran sort of saw it, I really saw it, Mum didn’t see a thing, and my dad said “Did you just see that? Was that a mouse?!” 

Mum was sort of asleep so she did not see a thing but she was hoping it was not a mouse because then she would get mad and yell at everyone for acting like pigs and she was too tired to do that. Fran said that she sort of saw it, and I was like “It was a mouse! That is weird… maybe we should get mice traps.”

So, now we have mice traps but we only have them inside. Outside does not really matter because it is outside, but if mice are outside and they come in then that is not a pretty sight. Even if my mum sees one outside she will yell “Kill it! Kill it before it gets inside!” I know she will say that because of the story I am about to tell you.

The other day we had some people from our church and Grace, one of my friends, come over to our house just to swim and hang-out. We were sitting around by the water tower (where we get our water from). There are two benches by the water tower but it is fun to sit on the water tower.

Our church friends were sitting on the benches and Grace and I were sitting on the bars of the water tower. We were talking and laughing having fun when Grace said to me “Hey Lorenzy, look at that. It looks like a mouse.” And then she pointed at a little, fat mouse. It was in the dark but we had a flash light so we could see it.

Then we decided to try and catch it, but it kept on scurrying across the wire fence on the top of the walls. Then the church people started to get curios about what we were doing. So they decided to ask Fran to ask us what we were doing.

So Fran says to us “What are you guys doing?” we reply by saying “There is a mouse and we are trying to catch it. Can you please pass us that stick over there?” Fran then translated and told them what we were doing. They thought it must be fun so they started to help us.

I think we were doing a good job before they helped us but, they were the ones that got it onto the floor. They start hitting it and stepping on it. Then my mum went out to give the guard his gear, torch and a gun, when she saw all the flash lights and all the movement, so she came over to see what we were doing.

When she saw the mouse it was so tired that it was not moving, so when she saw it she thought it was dead.  She looked at it and said “Wait here and make sure that the dogs do not eat it. I am going to get my camera and take a picture of it.” When she came back it started moving again and she said “It’s alive? Kill it! Kill it before it gets into the house!” and then she took a photo and ran off.

Then everyone had to go home so we said our goodbyes, they went home and we went inside. When I got into my bed later on I was thinking about what a weird day I had been through. And now it was finished. 

Social: Nicaragua to Expand Program for Poor Children

The Nicaraguan Government is expanding it´s "Program of Love" so that an increased amount of poor children will receive better health benefits and an education.

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Political: Iran's Leader Looks to Latin America for Support

Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is courting Latin America on a four-nation tour starting Sunday that will let him tout some of Iran's few friendships while tensions grow over the country's threats to block oil shipments in retaliation for tighter U.S. sanctions.


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POST by FRAN: Feeling Blue...

Blue is a three or four month old puppy. She is a Husky crossed with a German shepherd. Her coat has a cinnamon feel to it with black sprinkled on the very top of her back, and she has been very sick this past week.

My dad has taken her to the vet but there’s not much the vet can do. We are not really sure what she has or why she has it, but apparently it is contagious to the other dogs and even to children.

She is awfully skinny and she won’t eat. The only thing my dad keeps saying is “she’s a fighter!” and she is.

It sort of reminds me of a Christian’s daily life. We often become “sick” caused by sin and sometimes it looks like there is no way out. 

We have to keep fighting spiritually, physically and emotionally. Just like Blue.

Everyday Blue is getting stronger and stronger in health. And everyday we get stronger and stronger in spirit and in the love of Jesus Christ.

It’s a grand “lucha” or “fight” for those strong believers who want to win with success. I’m planning to win with success and I think Blue is too.

Even though Blue and I are still young and we need help from others I plan to win along side with my friends and family and even strangers! 

POST by JED: The Miraculous Mercado

In the past week we have visited the Mercado Oriental on several occasions. More recently, we visited three times. In the first instance we had raised enough money to buy all of the children in our small community a toy for Christmas. There are just over 100 children in our barrio, though the figures do tend to change as people from the local community get to know us and our agenda. (Matthew 25: 34-36) 

For our second visit we had raised enough money to buy each family in the neighbourhood an egg laying chicken. There are approximately 80 families in the area, though we still haven´t visited EVERY house, and so we remain a little uncertain (the tiniest “house” may contain up to 3 families). On this occasion we went to find the blessed little animals, however there was an insufficient quantity of chickens for our needs.

On our THIRD and final visit, at some ungodly hour, we purchased our prized chooks (Australian slang for “chickens”). The alarm clock collided with my World of Dreams before the sun had even contemplated upon a visit. We had been burning the candle at both ends and I was finding it difficult, at that festive time of year, to claw my way out of bed. Anyway, claw I did, and out I went.

The Mercado Oriental is like any market in the third world. People are busy hustling and bustling from well-before-dawn, and the element of danger only increases with every minute the day devours. I have Nicaraguan friends who talk of people being stabbed in the afternoon and their money being taken, rather than being “held up” and the victim being offered a choice (hand it over or face the consequences).

The predominant difference between the Mercado Oriental, as opposed to other markets, is the size of the market. The Mercado Oriental is 5 kms long, making it one of the largest markets in the World, and because it is a cash market it is not possible to get exact statistics on trade - though government bodies estimate gross daily sales to be around 3 million US dollars.

The Mercado is informally broken up into zones, much like a supermarket. “In the first 100 aisles we have carburetors, then in the next 100 aisles we have pigs´ feet”, and so-forth. To date, I know where to buy a radiator, a car tire, kids´ bikes, live chickens and t-shirts (yes, I can help any Christmas shopper with a wide selection of gift options).

Though shopping is usually a fun activity (always for the ladies, sometimes for the gents), at the Mercado Oriental it is a business, even for the consumer. Liz LOVES to barter. However, we are finding out in true Brien style (via the hard way), and sometimes with much embarrassment to-boot, that Nicaraguans just DO NOT barter. (as red faced Liz will have a man twice her size, pressed up against a wall, hand around throat, trying to get 10 cordobas off the price of a baby doll and pram… The children and I instantly become “interested” in an actual pig´s head in the next “aisle”. “Oh, and please do tell, how much for this delightful pig´s head you have hanging at the front of your stall?”) Consequently we get a bargain on the baby/pram set, and pay quadruple the price for a pig´s head.

The Nicas have a price for poor the poor, a price for the rich, and a price for Gringos (every foreigner). We always barter, we have to, but the Nicas hate it. Unless you can turn it into a moment of hilarity (my favourite line is “No es Cancun”, screamed at the top of my lungs, with much fake laughter to follow, whilst clutching the item I WILL NOT walk away from), they usually just say “no” and begin another task. Sometimes, they relent. I tell them over and over again that I´m too slim to be American, to ugly to be rich, and to underdressed to be European (ha ha, I know – NOT POSSIBLE!), but my poor Spanish and great big white car tell otherwise.

At least I don´t dress as well as the Nicas do. They take an enormous amount of pride in their personal presentation and it shows. Though I must say, the fashion police would have a field day with their mismatched combos (my good friend Jen and I were just talking about this phenomenon).  Because, although their clothes are always new, and although they always smell great, they have problems in selecting clothes that “work together”. An average woman may, for example, choose to wear a pink and purple poker dotted pair of pants (that are 2 sizes too small), with a horizontally striped blue and green blouse. (that are 3 sizes too small. The result? The midriff instantly becomes quite the feature show piece, and generally 4 sizes too big, might I just add!)

But the Mercado is not a festive place. It was a chore for me to think of Christmas presents when surrounded by the strange sights, sounds and smells. Personal space evaporates from the moment you take a step inside the market “zone”. The market is a type of warfare, people battling for their very existence, and you can sense the desperation.

There are many problematic social issues within the market. Though I have read up on many of these different issues, the evils I have personally encountered include gambling, prostitution and child labour.

It is not uncommon to find “pokies” (Aussie slang for slot machines) around the place. They are not used by people with excess amounts of money and suffering from boredom. They are used by the poor who really do view them as an opportunity to make some quick extra cash. They are not used solely by men, but also by women and children. I have seen with my very own eyes, and on several occasions, small children putting money into pokies in order to win a buck.

There are approximately thirty brothels in the market. I have walked by a couple. Several brothels in the market specialise in children. Though I have not personally witnessed child prostitution, I have read about them via several different medias and do believe that they exist, due to the poverty and the desperation that masses of Nicaragua´s population suffer from.

Something that I have witnessed, in large quantities, is child labour. Generally I believe that child labour is one of the steps needed in order for this country to climb out of poverty. I view the children as being in a sort of apprenticeship. I do not agree with child labour, but understand that economically these children will be at a disadvantage if they go to school, as they will lack the valuable skills and working experience they will need for adult life and may, due to their socio-economic status, be unemployable. However, it does make me sad every time I see a child carrying something too heavy, working with dangerous equipment, taking their rest in a place so unrestful, and so-forth.

But enough of this ho hum talk… You want to know about my chicken buying day! I arrived at the Mercado as the day was breaking and stepped out of the car. The warm smell of raw meat instantly met my senses. I started breathing through my mouth and looked around. Live chickens were pecking at the rubbish which was everywhere. “Homeless people” were sleeping on every flat surface available. Although early, many, many people were already cramming the streets. Loads of vendors were pushing their carts, shoppers were fussing around within their daily routine, young boys moved quickly carrying goods for buyers, mangy dogs were milling around smelly mounds of smelliness, and the market “police” continued to look on – taking everything in.

We start to move through the crowded corridors of the market. I was instantly referred to as chele (not sure of the spelling, but it sounds like chel-leh, “white man”. I have NEVER experienced this before, due to my dark hair/eyes and gorgeously sculpted Latin looking face). But it doesn´t happen just once, it´s “chele” this and “chele” that.

I´m exhausted after only a few small moments. It´s not the heat, the stench, or the continual pressing of bodies against my own - it´s the inability to think whilst all of this is going on. As a mere tourist, I´m fine. But having hundreds of dollars on my person, and a camera in hand, knowing that I have to achieve the task of buying at least 100 egg-laying-chickens, well it´s too much for me to handle…

But still, I push on, valiant market shopper that I am. (Liz would be skipping at this point, totally in her element!) I am in a weird section that has home-made vegetable products and raw meat/animal body parts. I am continuously passed by push-carts with carcasses in them. People are throwing meat between carts and stalls. A sweaty man, with hardly any clothes on, pushes me from behind, “oh sorry” I turn and say (I can´t think in Spanish at this hour, nor location) as I walk straight into a bloody cow´s head. Yukko!

I wipe myself clean with my t-shirt, wishing that I could be the naked one now (in a shower would be great!). I march forward again, but straight into a puddle the size of Lake Managua, with equal water quality. Yukko el numero dos!

With a bloody head, t-shirt and soupy shoes I round the bend. I look to my left. Chickens with their heads cut off, trapped in a massive flat bucket of sorts, are furiously trying to run. They are simultaneously being crushed by a massive bucket from above. A boy sits within the bucket laughing on his “ride”. I´m sweating now and my stomach, which only has freshly ground/brewed Nicaraguan Arabica hot, delicious , thick coffee inside,  churns.

I am now being pushed along by other people. I look around for Juan Pablo, he turns left and although my feet are turning left, my body is turning right. The train of people drags me along. “Help” I say, “help, HELP!” It´s no use. The ding dang market is now louder than the roar at a Metallica concert. I´m lost in the platano “aisle”.

Platanos are a staple in Nicaragua. They look like bananas, but taste more like potatoes. More semi-naked people are here, sorting through the good and the bad items and as I look on, I wish I was with them. The products are scattered along the floor and there are few people amongst them. The air is cool from where they are situated. I, however, am still on the runaway human train!

The crush becomes intense… “Ummm, could you please move your hand? I´m trying to walk and having your hand in my armpit isn´t helping…” I burst through a crack in the wall and find that, miraculously, I am standing beside our car. T-shirt back-to-front, hat on upside down, shoes on opposite feet and undies around my neck. (well, you get the idea…) I dare not try and find my way through the crowd again, to a destination I have not been to. I decide to wait at the car for help to arrive.

I see Juan Pablo. He is not happy. “Where did you go?” he asks in Spanish. “Um, I don´t know” is my response. Juan Pablo is from our Church, just a couple of years younger than I, but don´t tell him, I think he looks twenty years older than me. He wants me to go back with him to pay for and collect the chickens. Although horrified by the thought, I picture my boys standing next to me. It´s the right thing to do, I have to beat this thing!

I follow Juan Pablo and this time, the camera is away and I am nearly treading on his heels I´m so close. Oh… Sorry… Brother… A little too close! We arrive at the chickens in minutes. They are beautiful, with their heads still on! (unlike the rest of the animals in the market…) We pay the fee and have the chickens brought to the car.

Success! Thanks to Capital Edge Community Church in Canberra, Australia, and some incredibly generous people in Australia, Hong Kong, the UK, the USA, and Canada, this will be quite the Christmas for some quite endearing Nicaraguans. Thanks for sharing your Christmas with Nicaragua and thanks for reading my story! Happy New Year, I pray that it´ll be TOPs for you!!! 

Day 1 in the Mercado Oriental

Days 2 and 3 in the Mercado

Handing out the Presents and Chickens

Christmas Time in Nicaragua

POST by LIZ: A Miserable Merry Chrissy

I just love Christmas!  I love the carols, the candles, the lights, the tree, the decorations, the silly flashing Rudolf noses, I even love swimming through a sea of flustered last minute Christmas shoppers at the store.  I love Christmas so much that the other day Jed caught me unconsciously beeping out the tune “Jingle Bells” on the microwave’s buttons!

This Christmas was our first Christmas with Billy!  As December approached I found myself thinking about Christmas traditions and what type of Christmas Billy would experience with us. 

Jed and I have been married for 15 years, and within that time we have lived in five different countries and have lived in 18 different houses.  As a kid, Christmas for me had always been marked by rugging up in warm sweaters and staying indoors in a heated home, while for Jed; Christmas was spent on the beach! Creating our mutual Christmas tradition hasn´t been an easy task. 

The 1st of December has forever been an important day for the Townsend family.  It marks the wonderful day my older sister arrived into the world. The day also officially began Christmas in our household. As kids, we would wish Margie a very happy birthday, and while Mum baked the birthday cake, we would madly deck the halls with every bit of tinsel, Christmas hanging decoration, and fake spray snow we could get our eager little hands on. 

We would urge Dad to pull out the tree from the attic, and watch impatiently as he would carefully position the fairy-lights around the branches.  The engineer in him ensured that every bulb was working, the lights were all equally spread out from top to bottom, and facing outwards. (Not inwards where they could touch the plastic pine needles and be a potential fire hazard!) 

Once Dad had circled the tree at least five times, he would give us the thumbs up, which acted like a trigger for the start of a race. We five Townsend kin would waste no time running towards the tree, guaranteeing no branch was left “undecorated”.

Did the tree ever look uniformed and perfect like they do in the store? Absolutely not! But what was uniformed and perfect was our family working together on the annual task.

The most revered job was the correct positioning of the nativity scene.  We would discuss at great lengths which side of baby Jesus Mary should kneel, and whether Joseph should be on the opposite side of Mary or standing behind her; appearing to be the devoted husband.

There was never a discussion of where the three wise men should be.  They were always positioned in a line leading up to the manager which contained the blonde haired, blue eyed baby Jesus with the golden halo around his head.   

We then would raid Mum’s stationary drawer hunting for blue-tac in order to be able to elevate the angel, who bore the banner “Glory to God in the highest”.  I confess that I would get rather annoyed at my younger brothers, Nicholas and Luke, if they dared move the cows and sheep where Margie, Mike and I had spent hours deliberating over where the best place would be for them. 

Christmas Day was always precious.  We would wake up at ridiculous times that were far too early to be called morning.  I would always feel around in the dark for the “stocking”, which actually was a plastic bag with a Christmas pattern printed on the front. 

Then, along with my siblings, we would gather on a bed and feel each and every item, guessing what it could contain inside judging by the shape, size, weight and sound. When we couldn´t contain the self-control any longer, we would all madly unwrap the gifts, giggling in delight about the treasures the bag contained, and appreciating what the other had been given. 

At 6 o´clock in the morning, the radiators came on, and we would fight for position to warm our toes on the white heated metal.

Munching on the tangerines, which were always a staple in the Christmas stocking, we would then make our way into Mum and Dad´s room, bearing two plastic bags for them, and dragging our own plunder behind us.  They would listen in awe when we shared what we had received. Then all ten eyes would watch them open their “stockings” that Santa´s little helpers had put together.  

My Dad´s eyes would twinkle as he discovered socks, Cadbury fruit nut chocolate, mars bars and party poppers, and my Mum would sleepily “mmmm” and “awwwh” as she opened hers to find tweed perfume, Cadbury´s plain chocolate and tissues.  They both acted as if the presents (we brought for 20p at the Little Stoke Junior School´s annual jumble sale) were priceless. 

We would then have breakfast and get ready for church. My siblings never failed in wishing me a hearty happy birthday before we walked out the door to Little Stoke Baptist Church. 

After church came the feast.  My mother´s famous Christmas roast dinner never failed to fill our stomachs and there would always be plenty for our guests, who joined us at the extended dining table. 

I loved to place the party poppers and Christmas crackers on the plates. I would always try and peep inside to see what colour paper hat it contained, making certain I had a blue one - no matter what. 

I would have to guard the crackers from my brother Mike, as he had the habit of secretly pulling out the snappers from the crackers before they had been tugged at. (If he was successful, he would later use the snapper to sneak up behind an old, sleep-nodding Auntie Doll and snap it to wake her up)

Our Christmas dinner always started with a prayer of thanks, then –POP-, the party popper strings were pulled and -SNAP- the crackers, were wrestled with.  Jokes were read and groaned at while we all carefully sported our new paper hats – mine of course was blue!   

The rest of the day was spent in the heated living room opening gifts from each other, relatives and close friends. 

My mother would sip on her snowball drink as my dad willingly offered his fruit and nut bar to us, knowing full-well we would all decline because it contained raisins! By 2 o´clock, the floor was replaced with a carpet of torn up Christmas paper, bows and the unwrapping of gifts continued. 

There was always a Bible reading of the Christmas story; my mum would subtly remind us why we have the symbols of Christmas; there was no doubt that “Jesus is the reason for the season”. 

At 4 o´clock, Christmas morphed into my birthday. I felt incredibly special to share the same day the whole entire world chose to remember Jesus´ birth. 

We would spend the evening playing the new board games we had been given while chewing the left over roast beef in a sandwich Mum had prepared. 

And so this was the Townsend tradition that I had known for the first nineteen years of my life, and apart from the change of guests, it was predictable, cozy and Christmas to me.

When I moved to Australia and married Jed I didn´t realise just how much of change was in store for me.  Our first Christmas was a disaster! 

The 1st of December arrived, and after calling my sis to wish her a happy birthday (facebook and skype wasn´t invented back then!), I wanted to put up a tree.  I lovingly looked into my husband-of-four-months eyes and asked him where we would go to buy a Christmas tree.

“A CHRISTMAS TREE!!!  Oh no Liz, we don´t need one of those!”  he replied.

I started to laugh, as if it was some kind of sick Australian joke or something, but it wasn´t a joke – he was a serious Australian bloke saying NO to my tradition!

I was mortified!  But an AUD$40 Christmas tree was not in the budget for a newly-wed couple, who had just the one income from the bottom rung management tier of McDonalds.  

Deflated, but not defeated, I found my creative flair. I grabbed a stick from a neighbouring garden (we had no garden as we lived on the third floor of a five storey flat in the slums of Western Sydney). I carefully wrapped unwound metal clothes hangers around the stick, making loops at the ends to hold slim unscented candles – scented candles were far too expensive.  It was a pitiful sight and foreshadowed the first Christmas we would have together!      

To make matter worse, the weather was not cold! The 30 degree Australian heat just didn´t add to the feeling I used to get at Christmas.  To help my plight, my mother sent me some fake snow.  Jed ripped open the package and threw it over my head, but my tears fell quicker than the fake snow could.

Christmas Day was terrible.  We decided to sleep over at Jed´s folks place on Christmas Eve, as we were there for a family meal to celebrate Greg´s birthday (Christmas Eve), but Christmas Day felt just like a normal day at the farm (which, don´t get me wrong, I LOVE, and will always cherish, but I wanted my Christmas that I knew and loved). 

There was NO stocking at the end of my bed (the one my mother had sent in the mail was held up by customs), NO siblings to share the moment with, NO fellow early risers (the rooster did not count!), NO church visit and NO sounds of paper ripping - just the heavy snores of my beloved who didn´t wake up until well past one in the afternoon and with a chronic headache at that.  I managed a smile, but it was awful.

After my first Christmas with Jed, the season was always different.  Some years we would be on the beach, other years in foreign lands. One year Jed was blessed to experience a Townsend Christmas.

I asked my own kids what Christmas meant to them.  Without fail, Francesca and Lorenzy said “Great time with family”, Sezni piped up and said “Going to the beach”, and Rafael said “Remembering Jesus”. 

After 15 years, I am rather used to the randomness Christmas brings us yet I´m also grateful that we have been able to establish some constant traditions such as reading the Christmas story, watching the Grinch then Melbourne´s Carols by Candlelight Concert (thanks to YouTube), having a huge breakfast, calling the UK our Christmas morning, and always being together as a family. 

This year we did a few things differently that we hope to make a tradition; we hosted our own, first ever, Carols by Candlelight Concert. Christmas afternoon we put together some crazy games so that 36 kids would enjoy a Christmas party. With enormous thanks to some very generous friends, family and Church in Australia, we were able to organise a Christmas Drive for families who earn less than $3 per day. For ten and a half hours we walked from house-to-house giving out a variety of presents, chickens and were able to share about Jesus. 

When I think about Billy´s first Brien Christmas I can see it was a mixture of being loved by family and friends, receiving and giving, and most importantly - knowing that Jesus IS the reason for this fiesta of a season.       


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Prophecy at our Local Church

Church tonight was pretty amazing. Our Youth Pastors were over last night and begged us to come to Church tonight. A year ago a visiting pastor prophesied that people from a strange land would come and not only impact the Church, but also the local community. 

And so we went tonight and enjoyed the 4.5 hour long service and prayer time. Watch the video to see more...

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

The Brien's of Capital on the Edge - Christmas Drive, Shopping at the Mercado Oriental

This Christmas we are asking people to give to our Christmas Drive. The link below will take you to our latest videos, thrown together, which shows us out-and-about in Nicaragua´s Mercado Oriental, buying gifts (toys and chooks). This market is extremely dangerous and we had a HOOT!!!

Political: The People´s Princess, er I mean, President

Nicaragua is ready to welcome many international delegations that will attend the inauguration, on January 10, of President Daniel Ortega, reelected on November 6.

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Health: Worse off with a Second Bout of Dengue Fever

With the second infection, the antibodies sort of recognize the new type of viruses, but not well enough to clear them from the system. Instead of neutralizing the viruses, the antibodies bind to them in a way that actually helps them invade the immune system’s other cells and spread.


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Political: Nicaraguan Government Moves in to Assist the Poor

People with severe disability, the elderly, mothers of Nicaraguan heroes and martyrs are now receiving special food packages as part of the social plans by the government to help the most vulnerable groups.


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Social: Tipitapa Prison

One of the youth leaders in our local Church is an ex-inmate, from infamous Nicaragua´s Tipitapa Prison. Please pray about our possible involvement with the prison, in the form of a prison ministry. These boys need the Lord, they need food and clothes, toilet paper, etc.

Political: Army to Assist with Rural Crime

Nicaragua has become the latest country in the region to send the army onto the streets to fight crime, with the deployment of 1,000 soldiers to rural areas of the country which the government says are troubled by criminal gangs.


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POST by JED: So THIS is Christmas?

As a small child, Christmas Day was the best day of my life! So many memories and so much joy... 

I loved to wake at the crack of dawn (9am). My brother was never impressed by this intentional provocation. He was up at 4am and not permitted to so much as sniff a present until I was sitting by his side.

From beneath the tree we would be whisked away to the am service. My father was the minister of our seaside suburban Sydney Church, hence I enjoyed adding to my bank of sleep an additional 45 minutes.  

Though I must admit, he used to get extremely emotional about stuff and scream at the top of his lungs, even at Christmas, which interrupted my naps. I didn´t become upset though. I loved these moments - the passion, the fury! I would stand on the pew, beside my mother, so as to get a better look at my red faced, flabbergasted father.

I don´t really remember the rest of the day, because I think it evolved over my childhood from boring European Christmas Lunch/Dinner styled celebrations, shared between relatives in different cities, to picnics at the beach, and Christmas movies in the evening on our black and white telly set.

Then in my late childhood my aunty and uncle won the lotto and got a pool. My life was never to be the same. (In a way I´d won the lotto too) Every year we´d alternate between my mother´s family, the Morgans, and our Newcastle family (the ones with the pool).

With the Morgans we would spend the day at the beach. These were awesome times. Gran and Pop would be there, my only living grandparents left – without them Christmas didn´t exist. There were always beautiful, functional gifts, nothing excessive, and everyone gave to everyone (taste and thought were truly evidenced in the gifts exchanged). I usually enjoyed a collection of cool pressies, but there was never anything that totally rocked my World, and that was okay with me.

Christmas with the Newcastle family was also terrific. I loved my cousins, who were my age, unlike my Morgan cousins (who were a few years younger). The mornings were fun, though for me, tainted with a wee bit of envy.

I remember on one occasion, in my early teens, borrowing a video camera from a friend in Canberra – I later wished I hadn´t. I videoed this-and-that, but focused on Christmas morning with the relos. I remembered videoing my cousins unwrapping surf boards, tapes, mountains of clothes, bikes, and everything else under the sun.

That same Christmas Day I eagerly thrust the camera into my cousin´s hands, and made her video me unwrapping my “goodies”. A Biblical concordance and a pair of socks. YAY!!! My voice broke. I held the socks up to the camera and tried to hide my contrived “smile”. It was one of those smiles that just wouldn´t stick. I ended up bawling my eyes out in the toilet. (Sniff) The rest of the day was always heaps of fun, this day no exception, endless games of Marco Polo in the pool.

I came to appreciate Christmas as a time of family and not as a massive commercial event. In my mid teens we started a tradition of buying just for one person, and this suited me fine. I enjoyed catching up with family, chit-chatting and enjoying the beach. The inter-city migration ended and Christmas became about the immediate family. My Uncle and Aunt from the Morgan family divorced and with massive bodies loping around in Newcastle, Christmas became too big (though the Brien family still loves and enjoys all of our extended family).

In my late teens our family began attending a non-Church. We were a group, “a concept, a destination, a philosophy…” (AbFab) I REALLY loved these people, though we were in a time warp and should´ve been busting-out in the 70s and not the 90s.

We didn´t “do” Christmas! It was very convenient when Lizzie came along, because up until that point we were so busy NOT doing Christmas, that we actually drew more attention to it than if we had have just opened a pressie or 2. But NO, we were not idolisers, pagans, SATAN worshippers! We were set apart, different, unworldly, special…

Lizzie´s birthday is the 25^th of December. So as a group (a concept, a destination, a philosophy), we threw all of our worth into showing our love for Liz, who hadn´t died on a cross, but was lovely just the same. She didn´t get fabulous pressies, as this was too close to a Christmas tradition. But people did dote on her, and she always lucked it with little nick-nacky tasteful items, like nutty key rings, and terrific sarongs in earthy browns and blues…

Enter the Townsends… My first Christmas in England, led by Liz, was revolutionary for me. I´d never celebrated “the Christ” with people from the Northern Hemisphere. I have to say that I didn´t react well and was totally blown away (but unfortunately, not positively). I regret my responses now, but at the time I couldn´t believe my eyes. 

It began with midnight mass on the 24^th of December, which I was excited about, until I realised that it wasn´t Catholic. Boo-hoo! There I was being all-accepting, open-minded, (a concept, a destination, a philosophy) when I realised we were sitting in a boring ol´ Church of England service. (Anglican – my Poppy was an Anglican Minister, I´d already had my fair share of boring services…) Oh Heavens, I thought to myself. I then wished I was at home in Australia, as the Lord intended, watching Julie Anthony sing at Carols by Candlelight. (What a great idea St. George!!!)

But no, it wasn´t to be… Did I mention that we had gone to the MIDNIGHT MASS? Well, we came home and went immediately to bed. Little Francesca, just 3 years old, and Renzy, 6 months, both slept soundly until my WIFE, let´s call her ELIZABETH, got up at 4am and woke the house with her. But I, wise ol´ Jeddy, refused to budge. (regrettably fought the wrong battle there…) I “wisely” waited until 6am before rising. And what a sight… A word of wisdom to men thinking that I was doing the right thing here… Never, EVER cross your new wife on Christmas Day. More than a decade has passed and I still remain unforgiven.

Well, I walked into the “lounge room” and strained my eyes. I tell you the truth, EVERYONE was sitting on the floor, and HAPPY!!! It was appalling to me. I couldn´t see my children. They were giggling and the wrapping paper above them rustled as they moved around the room from spot to spot. I tell you the truth (again), it truly was a sea of paper. I dared not enter for fear of being sucked in by all this joy. What was the meaning of all this, this, this Fun and Happiness. I retreated to my room where I placed a towel over my head and inhaled deeply. 

Now, years later, Christmas for the Briens has evolved even further. I guess that´s family for you. No biggy. Changes have to be made as we invite others into our lives.

We have celebrated a second Christmas in the northern hemisphere and this time in New York. Things were equally as crazy in this beautiful country, and this time I was a tad better prepared.

Elizabeth and I have realised that our family is made up of two very distinct cultures. Together, united, we have formed our very own culture. I have resisted as I have felt Liz pushing for a place (a concept, a destination, a philosophy), that I hadn´t ever dreamt of going. Liz has also struggled as I´ve pulled in the opposite direction. And so, as you can see… Christmas´s in our family have had quite a turbulent evolution.   

But this year, for me, there has been quite a breakthrough. We now live in Nicaragua, a land physically rich, with a people economically poor. We are extending ourselves, forging into the Nicaraguan culture. We have been to our guard´s niece´s wedding, the youth group pastor´s house for dinner, we´ve been to rural quinces and our lawyer´s wife even comes to learn English with Liz. We´re out there, in the community, and we love it!

This Christmas we decided to do something a little different. We decided to have our very own Carols by Candlelight Concert in our very own backyard. (VIVA MELBOURNE!) We had always planned on raising money for our local community (to buy toys and food for them) and saw this as an opportunity to involve the local Nicaraguan Church and our Gringo partners. 

Oh what a night! At 5:30pm we were still downloading songs onto our laptop. The Church arrived at 6pm. Our guests arrived at 7. We began. I had selected a Vanessa Amorosi song to sing, as I wanted to sing something that showed my full range of vocal abilities. At the last minute we pulled out the crazy bits, I wasn´t wanting to show anyone up and my throat was aching after weeks of hayfever related symptoms.

Naturally it was a hit! Some of my lower notes were so low and hot they were nearly in hades! We moved on to some of the classics, such as Ding Dong Merrily on High (notes too high, couldn´t reach them, showed that we were a bit ding dong) and Silent Night. (after this little number, the audience truly were wishing it was a silent night…)  

Then the rain came. Now for those of you who don´t know, Nicaragua is in the tropical region of the Western Hemisphere. We have rain from June to November. It was quite a rude shock for us to have rain on a night such as the one we were celebrating, the birth of the Christ! But still, we powered on. (rather, we powered off, and moved the entire operation onto the verandah… “90 people, please grab an instrument and move 15 steps to the south.” It was a shambles! Liz and I relished in the moment! I thought back to my father´s red faced screaming in the Church… I had become my father!!!)

The kids performed an ol´ YWAM dance, For Unto US a Child is Born. It was a hit. The audience loved it. Lorenzy, Sezni and Raf, performed this dance with kids from the local Church. Naturally I directed from the front, due to the success of this number, most people watching me and wondering how and why. As I often remind my sister inlaw, “DON´T JUMP ON THE BANDWAGON, LEEEEEEEEEAD THE PARADE!!!”

The worship band from the mother Church of our local Church then performed seven songs. They were extraordinary! I don´t think Nicas are usually known as great singers or performers, but tonight, these semi-rural Christians could have been on any stage in the World. They sang with stamina and style, but most importantly, they sang with conviction.

From there we moved on to Away in a Manger. Raffy led this number, Fran on guitar, Renz on keys and Sez on the drums. All of the wee tots came to the fore and worshipped Jesus, our Saviour. I don´t think there was a dry eye – the pollen in the air – truly, horrendous…

The kids stayed on the instruments as we sung At the Cross, cause it´s ALL about the Cross, and then our nationals came back to lead us in Feliz Navidad. Yihaa!

The night had it´s highs (Ding Dong) and it´s lows (Hello Vanessa!!!), but all in all I realised one thing. I´ve found my Christmas Niche (a concept, a destination, a philosophy).

Our family is here in Nicaragua to stay. We´ve been sent by our Church in Australia to seek out and to save the lost, to bring hope to those without it, to feed, clothe, educate... You´ve heard all of that before.

However, what you mightn´t know is, I´ve been wandering around the face of this Earth, wondering how to express my Christmasness. I have lacked a Christmas identity…

And now I know… Christmas is about being together - just as Christ desires togetherness with HIS Church, reconciling differences - as Christ reconciled with both Jew and Gentile, forgiving - as Christ forgave, and loving - as Christ loved. AND ALL IN FRONT OF A LIVE, CAPTIVE AUDIENCE, MICROPHONE IN-HAND!!! Don´t jump on the bandwagon, grab your concept, destination, or philosophy and by joves darn it, LEAD THE PARADE!!! (Be who Christ made you to be... Be RADICAL!!!)

POST by SEZ: Aussie, Aussie, Aussie! Oi, Oi, Oi!!!

One day when I was six I was going to the zoo with my Dad, Mom, Fran, Renz, and Raf.

I was going to see animals because we can learn more about animals. When we got there we saw Lions, Tigers, Cats, Wolfs, Deer’s, and Reptiles. 

We had a lot of fun seeing animals we saw Polar Bears, and Hippos , Alligators , Fish , and Turtles swimming. 

We saw Hyenas laughing for hours we saw Apes, Spider Monkeys , Capuchins , and Gorillas swinging , and climbing.                        

I like to learn about animals. 

POST by RENZY: Tantalising Traditions

My story is about Christmas, my church, and family.

As you know it is Christmas! Everyone is merrily decorating their Christmas trees and their house with lights except for the people in my church. They are focused only on God. It is a good thing but they have so many rules like no Christmas trees and no lights. We respect them but we have a tradition and we always put up our tree and Christmas decorations on December 1^st.

So a few weeks ago when we had just put up our decorations our church came over a few days later to hang out. I was wondering what they would say about it but they didn’t say anything to me thankfully. As a matter of fact I don’t think they said anything to anybody in my family but I am not sure. Any way we were having fun we went swimming and it was a Saturday.

The next day when we went to church the pastor was talking. Here is the funniest part, she was talking the why they do not have Christmas trees or lights. We were shocked. At the end I even started to laugh. What a coincidence.

So we still have our Christmas tree and lights up because we still do our tradition although they say that it is bad. At our church in Australia they have Christmas trees and lights up. It is sort of like the different cultures at my home church in Australia and my church here in Nicaragua.   

POST by RAFFY: Are You Ready To Hang Up Your Smalls?

Are you ready to hang up your stockings? Well I say yes. That’s why I am going to tell you a story about a stocking. And at the end of the story I am going to tell you how the stocking looked like. So are you ready? Start reading.

One day my dad was going to teach a boy English. I didn’t know what the boy´s name was. I went for a walk because I was board. I got 1 coconut for my family. I went for a longer walk and it looked like I was going in a circle. Then I found a stocking on the grass. And I also saw Francesca my sister. She wasn’t really doing nothing she was gist wandering around. First I said to Francesca look Fran look what I found.

I held the stocking in the air looking at it. Francesca asked where did you get that? I said right here on the grass next to this tree. Francesca and I went were my dad was after that and I said dad I have a stocking. My dad said put that back where you found it. But I said it was on the grass next to a tree. My dad said Ask the people and houses in front of the stocking. So I asked the people and houses if the stocking was there’s. And they all said no in Spanish.

So all of us went home and I gave the stocking to mom as a gift because she didn´t have a stocking.

I am going to tell you what the stocking had on it now. It had a snow man with clothes on it, on the top of the stocking said snow, the snow man wore a hat that was lite green, red, white, it had a scarf, Last the background was red.

CAROLS by CANDLELIGHT - Tonight is the NIGHT!!!

In Australia, we love to join in the Christmas spirit by taking a picnic blanket, and our singing voices, and join other families by singing good old fashion and modern Christmas Carols by candlelight. 

Tonight, we Brien's will be hosting a Carols by Candlelight concert upon our lawn, and we'd love it if you could come! 

Entry is free, and a coin donation will get you a program (all proceeds will benefit the local community) Candles and refreshments will also be available to purchase. 

We'll open the gates at 5:30pm, bring your rug so you can lounge out on the lawn, and bring your singing voices and join us in celebrating Christmas the Australian way.  

Make sure your kids are well versed in AWAY IN A MANAGER :) 

Location:  For those who know the MOSTS house, it's there (we are housesitting) and the road has just been leveled out thanks to pre-election campaigns !!!  

For those who don't know or have forgotten where we now live...

It's Km 12, Carretera Vieja a Leon, you will see a zebra crossing (hmmm not sure what you USA citizens say.. is it Cross walk??)

Turn left at km 12 and drive ALL the way up the hill.. (2.5 kms)

You will pass a school and Covanic.   Keep driving all the way up until you can turn left onto another street.  (it's really the first left you can take)

take this left turn and you'll find the house gate on the left.  

Questions, e-mail us: lizandjed@yahoo.com.au.

Our phone number is 2264 4484 

The spanish directions are: Km 12 Carretera Vieja a Leon, De la Entrada a Covanic, 2.5km al sur, mano izquierda, muro de ladrillo, 2nd porton verde de metal, a la vuelta de la esquina.   

Political: Understanding the Emerging Latin America

While much of the World is in crisis and protests are erupting throughout Europe and the United States, Latin American and Caribbean nations are building consensus, advancing social justice and increasing positive cooperation in the region. Social, political and economic transformations have been taking place through democratic processes in countries such as Venezuela, Bolivia, Ecuador, Nicaragua, Uruguay, Argentina and Brazil throughout the past decade, leading to a massive reduction in poverty and income disparity in the region, and a substantial increase in social services, quality of life and direct participation in political process.


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Political: The West is Getting Fat, Whilst Nicaraguan Sugar Cane Workers Die

On June 10, 2011, Martinez was assigned to cut four rows of cane. His task was to strip off the leaves, chop them into pieces, and tie them into bundles. About forty pieces make up a bundle. For this labor, he earned one cordoba per bundle – less than a nickel. (5 cents)

By 8:30 in the morning, he had cut two rows. He was starting to feel sick, but continued to cut in the sweltering heat. “The sun was too strong, and I had sweated through my shirt like someone had thrown water on me,” Martinez recalled.

By the time he finished his rows, at about 11, Martinez was feverish and nauseous. He rested some 15 minutes, but still had to tie his pieces into bundles. Another worker came to help.

Martinez said they finished about 1 p.m., and the bus came to bring the workers home about half an hour later. When it arrived, Martinez felt desperately ill. “I got onto the bus and I couldn’t walk anymore,” he said.

Since Martinez was a contract worker, he could not go to the company hospital. He took the bus toward home and on board began to vomit. The bus did not stop. “The guys gave me a chance to stick my head out the bus window,” he said.

The road where the bus left him is separated from his home by a shallow river. His mother and brother carried him across the river to bring him to his bed.

Soon after his collapse, Martinez learned that his creatinine levels were up. He had gone for days with no appetite, wanting only cold drinks to soothe the sensation of fever.
“If death is coming, we have to resign ourselves to wait for it,” Martinez said. “Resigning yourself means waiting for what the disease is going to give you. Because you look at me and I look normal now, but inside I feel like I’m burning."

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