Looking a Gift Pig in the Mouth

Another month gone; a volcano having its moment in Alaska; protests still sprouting in Managua over questionable mayoral elections…and then there’s the global economy, but let’s not go there. For the moment, prices have come down a bit here in Nicaragua, at least for building materials. A bag of cement, for example, hit nearly $10 a few months back, but can now be had for the bargain price of $8.50. (It was around $4.75 when we began our project in Jan. ’07.) Nevertheless, it’s a promising start, along with greatly reduced gas and diesel prices, and an unexpected upswing in tourism. When I flew back down here after two weeks in NYC and Chicago in early March, the plane was maybe 10% Nica. Of the other 90%, I’d say, conservatively, 60% were traveling as part of a mission, volunteer org., or for some other altruistic motive. The other 30% were comprised of surfers and travelers, and a smattering of business types, evident for their briefcases and neatly tucked in golf shirts. I sat between an 18 year old Nicaraguan-Peruvian girl born and raised in the US, but going to visit her dad’s family for spring break, and a Rotarian from Texas with whom I chatted most of the trip, and from whom I received some good Sprout-oriented ideas. (Also good to know Rotary International is active in Nicaragua, though not in the Rivas area. (http://www.fonclub.org/ for more info.)

It was good to be back here after my visit north, not only to retreat from the cold, but to resume my various activities with Sprout and AES (Alaska English School) re-energized. The school is slowly growing, as things do here, and I expect within a year or so I will have all the students I can handle. Since I must leave for 3+ months this summer/fall, I am not aggressively recruiting students but still they trickle in. Just the other day as I bicycled into town a man pulled up alongside me on a motorcycle with a couple young boys on the back and asked me (in Spanish) if I were the English teacher. When I said yes, he proceeded to tell me all about his older son who wanted to enter a prestigious bilingual university in Honduras, but really needed to improve his English skills. I agreed to stop by later in the week to discuss it with them, and off he went. The next day, an American friend told me, “Hey, I met my neighbor to the rear. He’s very charming and speaks perfect English. He said he’d just met you as well.” I realized it had to be the same guy, and was amused he had given me no indication of his English abilities. When I did go over to talk to them, I asked him about it, and he just smiled and shrugged and said, “Well, I figure you foreigners need to practice your Spanish since you’re living here…” Looks like I’ll be privately tutoring his son, Dani, a fútbol fanatic who now cannot wait to meet Patrick (whom I may have described as a Scottish pro) three times a week in their large, 200+ year old beautiful traditional house (pictures next time).

Last Sunday was the Hipica again, the annual horse-worshipping event here in town. I wrote about it a couple years back, but it was much better this time around, in large part because the school is right on the main square, so I invited a bunch of people over to watch in comfort as over 40 beautiful, highly trained Arabians pranced and danced their way around the park. If you’ve ever had the opportunity to watch the famed Lippizzaner Stallions from Vienna, you’ll have some idea what these Nica ponies were capable of. There was even one horse that performed an intricate Flamenco-like dance with his trainer not on his back but standing nearby, issuing a series of whistles and clicks. Very cool. Of course the day would’ve lacked something without the ornate-yet-rustic caravan of scantily-clad “Toña Girls”, wriggling about on their platforms, encouraging everyone to slake their thirst, if not their desires, with tantalizingly cool cans of Toña beer, conveniently available from any one of the dozen or so pushcarts endlessly circling the square. And then came “La Gigantona” and her odd little sidekick, “”La Cabeza”. You’ll need to scroll down for the pics of these two, but apparently the giantess brings luck, and the wee man makes trouble. For a buck or so, along with their three piece band and the announcer, they’ll give “private” performances, which include the announcer reciting assorted risqué and amusing limericks and poems, often catered to the specific audience. I was seated next to Kyle, the 20 y.o. son of some Canadian friends, and he was singled out for his bright blue eyes and baseball cap; another friend, Eric, a 60+ expat, was roasted for his full white beard and still-pale legs. At the end of the dance between the two, there was a brief sexual component which I’d not seen before, in which the giant head (worn by a 12 or 13 y.o. kid) lay prone on the ground as the giantess danced back and forth over him, stopping to wriggle up and down along the way. The Nica audience loved it, so perhaps it’s not unusual; I just didn’t expect it in front of such a child-heavy crowd, but then in spite of its dominant Catholicism, Nicaragua has a much more open and accepting attitude toward the existence of sex than her puritanical neighbor to the north….

I just finished what might very well be the best book written about the era of the Sandinistas, from the early 70’s through 2006. Called Blood of Brothers, by journalist Stephen Kinzer, it maintains its objectivity and clearly shows how things went down over that turbulent 20+ year period, and why Nicaragua is still in the state it’s in today. I spoke about bits I read with people here, people from all sides of the political spectrum, and was gratified to find Kinzer’s findings dove-tailing with my own. The two saddest aspects were the Sandinista’s immaturity and inability to govern in a realistic and equitable manner, without alienating and ultimately losing the support of the vast majority of Nicas, nearly 90% of whom had fully supported them immediately after the revolution in ’79. And secondly, and in part as a result of the first (but far from entirely), the (Reagan-led) US government’s decision to squash any hope of success in the name of eradicating Communism from the continent and playing out the Cold War closer to home (not to mention the whole Iran-Contra component…). How differently everything could have turned out for this country had these circumstances been otherwise…and how far Nicaragua still needs to travel to achieve its many and not altogether unrealistic goals for the 21st century… I suppose that, in part, is why we chose to come here, over and above the obvious benefits of warm weather and low overhead. As more and more European countries sever their aid packages in response to a much older but no wiser Ortega, the average Nica finds life that little bit harder. The government recently launched a program called “Hambre Cero”, or “Zero Hunger”, involving the widespread distribution of cows, pigs, and chickens to impoverished campesinos, the vast majority of whom are very grateful, but who are more likely to immediately slaughter and eat or sell their new livestock rather than try to sustain them. One response to this has been to make sure the cows and pigs are pregnant upon arriving at their new homes, the idea being the poor farmers will at least wait until the babes are born before firing up the barbeque, and this has, in fact, helped somewhat. But in the end, hunger will trump practicality, and the majority of gifted livestock will have been digested long before their offspring can make any sustainable difference.

On a lighter note, Semana Santa is nearly upon us, that Holiest of Holy weeks, when one can show his or her appreciation of all those Biblical dudes & dudettes by flocking to the beaches, drinking copious amounts of alcohol, and dancing till dawn. Sadly, I will be in Florida, while Pat will still be in Homer, but at least we will be contributing to the madness via our power line, firing up the tiny palm-leaf bars along our strip of beach. So why not celebrate Easter the Nica way; toss aside your chocolate bunnies and cheerfully painted eggs in lieu of a rum & coke and the irresistible beat of Cumbia! (You can always seek forgiveness Monday morning.)