Colette Price, GPC Online Student, Fall 2007

A Concrete Floor: Dangerous and Beautiful

It is amazing how much a few days of hard work can change the way I look at life.  While on a mission trip in Nicaragua, my group and I were given a special project.  We needed to upgrade the elementary school’s floor from dirt with patches of lumpy concrete to a smooth concrete floor.  Simple, no big deal, we all thought.

Once we arrived at the work site, we found a cinder block room completely barren with no electricity, no running water, one lopsided door, a rust streaked tin roof spotted with holes, and two small windows as the only light source.  This room looked like an abandoned shack to us North Americans, but to the children of San Ines, Nicaragua, this shack was their school.  The lumpy uneven floor in the school caused the desks to rock and wobble as the students sat in them for their daily lessons.  My mission, along with my six companions, was to construct a smooth concrete floor for the teacher and the students of San Ines.  We quickly learned this was no simple project.

The challenging and dangerous task of mixing, pouring, and leveling concrete, even in America, requires a great amount of physical strength and skill.  In Nicaragua, without concrete mixing trucks, we were forced to mix, pour, and spread the concrete by hand.  Two basic tools were needed: shovels and a five-gallon bucket.  Using the bucket like a measuring cup for a recipe, we mixed seven buckets of sifted sand and two and a half buckets of water with an eighty-pound bag of mortar.  Since we were merely teen volunteers without the years of experience and muscles accustomed to this kind of physical labor, my friends and I had to take turns shoveling the pile of wet goo until it became concrete.  As a group we made at least eight batches of concrete in two days obligating us to shovel through the aching pain in our arms and backs.  We also discovered concrete is dangerous work because it contains harmful acids that literately eat through human flesh resulting in blisters, wounds, and permanent scars.  Doctors refer to this condition as concrete poisoning.

The only simple part of the job was making an impression on the teacher and her precious students.  Since the children could not have class while we refinished their floor, they enjoyed two days off from school.  During their spare time they would come and peak in the door and windows to watch us level and smooth the concrete.  Grins of curiosity and amazement appeared on their faces as they observed the Gringos (North Americans) working in their school.  When the teacher came to see the finished product of our labor, she saw a beautiful, smooth, level concrete floor.  Tears began to flow gently from her dark brown eyes revealing the impact we had on her and the emotional attachment she had with the school.  Wiping her tear stained face she softly said, “Aqui, Esta mirra un escuela de realidad.”  Translated: “This looks like a real school now.” Their smiles and tears had nothing to do with the completion of the beautiful concrete floor; however, they had everything to do with the simple fact that we, the Gringos, were in San Ines, Nicaragua, trying to make a difference in their lives.

            This backbreaking experience made a lifelong impact on me.  I have become more thankful for my overcrowded school.  The hallways, which are bigger than the school in San Ines, are jam packed like Spaghetti Junction at rush hour, and the air-conditioning works so well I freeze the entire day.  Now I realize how blessed I am to live in America where education is a priority.    The sheepish smiles on the faces of these innocent children have forever touched my heart reminding me of the flood of opportunities I have compared to the children of Nicaragua.  I will to continue to take advantage of them and make a positive impression on people wherever I go.

Eventually the sore, achy pains vanished from my muscles.  The memory of the extreme physical work I did reminds me of how much effort I should be putting into everything I do in life especially while serving others. The poison from the beautiful concrete left permanent scars on my feet.  These scars serve as daily reminders of my blessings and the work I did to make a difference for a small school in San Ines, Nicaragua.  I went to help improve their lives and ended up impacting my life more.