In Love With León

Today I will be returning to Managua. I'll stay there for a couple of days before going to Costa Rica. I have to leave Nicaragua because my visa is about to expire; but I'll be back. To ensure my return, I'm leaving my heart in León.

I hardly know where to begin to describe my experience in León. Other than the first night, when I stayed at Hostal Don Raúl (which was cheap and friendly, but lacked internet), both times I've been in León I've stayed at Hostal Tortuga Booluda. I had gone out in search of an internet cafe. Seeing several young people with backpacks (who turned out to be from Sweden), I asked them if they knew where I could find one. They said they were on their way to Hostal Tortuga Booluda, which has wifi. Although there were no dorm beds available that night, Santos, who was working at the reception desk, told me I could use my laptop there. In the common area I saw photos of Che Guevara on the walls, and heard some wonderful reggae and Cuban music -- and I knew this was the place where I wanted to stay.

The following day I arrived early and got a dorm bed. Only three and a half blocks from the Central Park, La Tortuga Booluda has been the perfect place for me. (This video, taken by a traveler, will give you an idea of what the place is like.) Of course, much of the ambiance of a hostel is created by the people who stay there. I've been very lucky to have met some amazing people here. They come from all over the world and have enriched my experience with their stories of their lives and travels. We've had some great conversations about the politics of Nicaragua -- a fascinating topic. Some of these people are now FaceBook friends, and I follow their travels as they post photos and commentaries.

I would have to say, though, that my most interesting experience has been getting to know Maria. As I was looking at a large mural, full of historical and revolutionary symbolism, covering the walls of two buildings on the north and east sides of the plaza across the street from the cathedral, Maria approached me, notebook in hand, and offered to show me some of the important sites connected with the Sandinista revolution. We spent the next couple of hours wandering the streets of León. We toured a jail where Anastasio Somoza's army tortured prisoners. Maria showed me buildings damaged in the war, like the building with rectangular openings, used by the army to shoot from (turned into a school, Escuela Taller de León Pepe Escudero, after the Sandinistas took over) and a church blasted to smithereens by Somoza's forces.

Escuela Taller de León Pepe Escudero (left)Bombed church (right)

















Maria explained what it was like during the war so that I could almost feel what it must have been like to live through those years. She speaks no English, and my Spanish is very basic; but she was so perceptive, catching every look of confusion that crossed my face when I didn't understand what she was saying, and re-phrasing her explanation until I got it.

Over coffee at Cafe Rosita, I learned about Maria's life (which will be the subject of another post), and began to think about how I could help her. That was the beginning of what I call el proyecto 'coche de hot dogs' -- Maria's hot dog stand. I could have donated the equivalent amount of money to one of the foreign-based organizations engaged in charitable works here (and I don't deny the need for these -- in fact, there should be more); but it has been an immensely satisfying experience to have been personally involved in providing Maria with a means of making a decent living. This little project has created a bond between us that will last throughout the years, sustained by our weekly emails and, I hope, my occasional visits.

To be continued ...

Peace

Down Time in Managua

Laid up n Managua with a sinus infection (a recurring problem), I’ve had some time to read and watch movies. I’ve been reading The Shock Doctrine, by Naomi Klein, one of the most important books I‘ve ever read. I had just read the chapter on the coup in Chile when, apropos of that, I watched the 1982 Costa Gavras film, Missing. The film is based on the true story of independent journalist, Charles Horman, a young US citizen who was killed during the US-sponsored coup against Chile’s democratically-elected President, Salvador Allende, in 1973. Also killed was Frank Teruggi, who worked with Horman at a small news magazine, FIN (Fuente Norteamericano de Información, or North American Information Source).

According to history professor, Steven Volk (who was also in Chile during the coup that put Augusto Pinochet in power, and was the person who identified the body of his friend, Frank Teruggi), FIN "was designed to keep interested Chileans informed about the activities of the U.S. government and corporations around the world, and to demonstrate solidarity with the Chilean left by calling attention to progressive movements in the United States." Association with FIN was enough to put Charles Horman and Frank Teruggi on the list of persons to be rounded up and killed in a coup supported (and to some extent organized) by their own government.

Charles Horman and Frank Teruggi were like a lot of us -- passionate about social justice, using every possible means to communicate the larger issues to anyone who's interested, and completely outspoken about we're seeing. We use Facebook to post links to articles and videos that tell the story better than we ever could. We blog. At the same time, we are mostly unaware of the lengths to which the powers that be will go to protect their interests. We may feel insignificant in the larger scheme of things, but if we have anything coherent to say about what is happening around us, it's sure that we've been noticed -- if not by those we want to reach, then by those who know that the ideas we try to disseminate are inimical to their interests. Charles Horman and Frank Teruggi didn't see themselves as very important. That was a mistake.

It's not that we should ever stop speaking the truth that we see to as many as will listen. But we need to be aware of the forces that are arrayed against us. We need to understand that the desire for social justice, for truth, is not on their agenda. Making a profit at any cost is their prime motivator. To them, we are "bleeding hearts," concerned about the survival of people who are irrelevant to their scheme of things, and striving to protect cherished human values that they have decreed passé. In Archbishop Oscar Romero and Reverend Martin Luther King (among many others, nameless, faceless, but still speaking their truth from beyond their unmarked graves) we have examples of the kind of integrity we know we will need in the face of an onslaught by those who desire to frighten us into doing their bidding.

These martyrs boldly spoke the truth they as they saw it, that they were living within an evil system that required the sacrifice, often the blood sacrifice, of those who spoke out against the injustices being perpetrated against the people they loved. They were willing to sacrifice themselves, not to prove the evil-doers right, but to show that you can kill people, but you can't kill an idea. The idea is justice, freedom and respect for all. The desire for these is inherent in human nature, and yet how often do we practice doing unto others as we would have them do unto us? I think that if we applied this principle generally, we could change the world. But we need to remember that the application of this principle has a cost.

More and more people are waking up to the reality that has been before our eyes all along. But the system that controls our possibilities and our perceptions also monitors our desires. It's time to think about these things. It's time to think about the personal cost of challenging a system established to further the greedy interests of a small number of those of our species who would sacrifice the rest of us for their goal of gaining total control of the world. Horman and Teruggi found out too late that there was not even a shred of humanity in the system they attempted to challenge. They were killed because they knew too much. And so, what is our alternative? Refusing to know anything? (Ignorance will not save us.) Pretending that things will get better on their own? (We know they will not.) There are no easy answers. Still, we need to ask ourselves the questions.

All I know is that the more I learn (and The Shock Doctrine has been a real eye-opener), the more I experience the need, the desire, to tend to my own integrity, which is challenged every time I speak out and get criticized for it; every time I have a choice to make between my desires and others' needs; every time I am tempted to give up on humanity. I don't know what the future holds in store for me. All I know is that integrity seems to be the worst mortal sin in the upside down world of today. It seems to mark people for martyrdom. And yet, without integrity, what am I? I might as well be dead.

These are serious thoughts on a beautiful morning in a beautiful country whose people have had to grapple with these issues before (and, judging from the signs, unfortunately probably will again). But at this moment I feel very alive and overwhelmed by the beauty around me. It's a good day to travel back to León to refresh my perspective.

Peace