My time here has been filled with many
stories—some my own, some from others. As I sit here at my 6.5 month mark, I am
going to share a few.
Damaris
On Thursdays and Fridays we go
visit the women that receive loans in their houses. This Friday we went to
visit a woman named Damaris. She excitedly receives Silvia and me and looks for
a couple chairs for us. She is in the middle of feeding her two boys, one a
year old and the other 8. The 8-year-old has a severe disability, and he cannot
even sit up on his own. During our conversation, she patiently feeds a pink
mush to both whining children. At one point she accidentally drops the cup with
the pink mush, and a bit spills out on the dirt floor. Without skipping a beat,
she continues to talk as she picks up the cup, gets a broom, sweeps the ruined
food out the door, and continues to feed her boys. Damaris is in many ways the
epitome of women in Nicaragua that I have met…full of sacrifice and love.
Gustavo
I was walking home from work
one night, and a guy walking in front of me stops suddenly and turns around to
look at me. It kind of startled me so I jumped off the curb to put some
distance between us. He then tells me that I don’t need to be afraid of him,
and we just started talking. It turns out his name is Gustavo, and he is on his
way to his usual awning so that if it rains tonight, he won’t get wet. We
arrive at the place where we are to part ways, and I say “Que le pase una buena
noche,” (Have a good night!) and suddenly his composure changes. He says, “No
one is going to believe me! They’re all going to think I’m crazy! The Virgin
Mary appearing to me!? I’m only a drunk and a sinner! Please pray over me!” He
gets down on his knees in front of me like he’s going to worship me. I tell him
to please get up because we are both humans and both equals, and he should not
be doing that. He gets up and hands me the small bags of bleach and laundry
detergent that he is holding, saying they are presents for me. I try hard to
give them back, but he won’t take them. Again he asks me to pray over him, a
sinner. I didn’t really know what to do… In the end I just put my hand on his
head and rubbed it a bit. Then I said goodbye, and I haven’t seen him since.
Hector
For the entire month of May we
had Fontaneros (Plumbers) fixing all of the water tubes in our house, as we had
a few major leaks that were causing our water bill to be 2000 Cords instead of
the normal 80 Cords. In this time, we ended up becoming friends with the
hardworking plumbers Hector and Edgar. One night after they were done working,
Hector told us his life story—how he had been recruited to fight in the
Nicaraguan Revolution. At 12 years old, he was planting mines in the mountains
to blow up his opponents. Later after the revolution, he traveled through those
lands again and came across many children without arms and legs. He then
realized the damage he had caused, and was deeply affected. He turned to alcohol
and drugs to help ease the pain and guilt he felt. During this time he was
homeless, and a few times he was violently robbed. He told us that one day he
suddenly realized how stupid he was being, and he vowed to change his life. Now
he works a pool cleaner at a university and as a freelance plumber.
Jennifer
Only one woman from the
banks comes to Heather and I’s Dance/Aerobics Class regularly. This woman is
named Jennifer, and over time she has become my best Nicaraguan friend so far
in this country. A couple weekends ago
she invited me to go out dancing with some friends and family for her 31st
birthday. We went to Casa del Obrero (including her 2 sons—one 12 years old and
the other 1), and we all danced Cumbia from 5pm-10pm. Although I don’t really
like Cumbia that much, we all had so much fun. Jennifer and her family are so
kind and inviting, that I feel almost a part of the family.
Guadalupe
We
went to visit Doña Lupita in her house one day, and she excitedly welcomed us
to sit under the huge avocado tree with her. She (like almost everyone)
originally answers our “Cómo estás?” question with a “Bien, gracias a Dios,”
but upon sitting there listening to her talk for 15 minutes about various
things, she starts to cry. She talks about how her sons are robbers, and how
the police come to her house many times looking for them. She says that she
loves them so much, but that no one cares about her. She could die tomorrow and
no one would notice.
Random Woman at the Bus Stop
One
day I was waiting for the MR-4 bus when I notice that a very thin woman with a
few bags is going through a trash bag nearby that is filled with pineapple and
papaya peels. She carefully goes through the bag, picking out all the papaya
skin slices and then putting them in her bag. I stood there for a few minutes
horrified. Was she really going to
eat that?! I wanted to ask her, but I was embarrassed. After a few more
minutes, I got the courage, and I asked her what she was planning on doing with
the peels. She looks up at me, smiles, and says in Spanish, “Oh well I am going
to feed them to my pigs…they don’t like the pineapple, but this papaya will
work fine. Thanks for asking!”
Esperanza
Recently
I led an activity in the bank where each woman had to pick out a question from
a bag and answer it in front of the group. Esperanza picked the question, “If
you could trade places with one person for a month, who would it be?” She
quickly answers her husband because he gets to travel around and do things.
This
is only a fraction of all the stories I carry here in Nicaragua. Every day I am
filled with the beauty and tragedy that I see, hear, and am slowly coming to
understand. I think I could go on forever. I am so grateful to all those that
have opened up and shared with me.