Luis and His Horse

Recently my friend Luis (my godson Bruno’s father) was coming home from work on his horse cart. Luis earns most of the family’s income by cutting firewood in the forest that he later sells in the market. It is an extremely tiresome and humble way of making a living, but it has allowed him to get two daughters through the university and provides food on the table for his children. Just barely, but he manages. Just as he arrived at the entry to his home, his entire cart tilted over spilling all of the wood down the hill. Luis fell to the ground and discovered that his horse had died. Luis sat there with his horse the entire night until his wife Mariza finally found him and brought him to the house.

Luis inherited the horse about 15 years ago when his father-in-law passed away. He comes from a very modest family. He has no plot of land to tend and no family savings of money from which to draw. Luis never attended school and never learned to read or write. Considering his circumstance, he has done quite well for his family. They have a small snack bar at my school that doesn’t make much, but allows a block of cheese or maybe some meat or milk to augment the standard rice and beans. Luis also works nights as the security guard of the school, leaving him to sleep 3 hours at lunchtime per day. The money he earns as a security guard has allowed him to pay for his daughter’s educations. Now, with the loss of his horse, he was stuck at a crossroads. He didn’t have the money to replace the horse. Without his horse, the firewood business would be impossible and he wouldn’t have enough income to purchase the weeks food, let alone the stock for the snack bar, and certainly not his daughter’s educations. It was this last factor that had Luis most beat up. He has an intense belief that his sacrifices will be made fruitful by the success of his children and the future that they will provide for the family. He wants desperately to see his family move on from their day-to-day making ends meet lifestyle.

Luis and I sat on the hill above my school as we do every day. Here we have discussed everything from politics to family to women. This day he was clearly distraught. He began telling me everything that had happened the day before. He held back tears at first, but eventually couldn’t contain himself. His disposition and the desperation of the situation began to remind me of my own father and the difficult years we passed during his bankruptcy. I remembered how destroyed he felt when he imagined that he might not be able to send his kids to the schools they deserved. I felt so frustrated for Luis. I knew that the problem was so much bigger than a stupid horse, but I also new that what Luis needed right now was a real solution and not some theory about the cycle of poverty.

I went home that night and couldn’t sleep. I have always maintained during my time here that I cannot fix everyone’s problems, and that band-aiding situations would ultimately do no good. I also knew however, that a workhorse in Nicaragua costs approximately 150 dollars. This is an impossible amount for Luis, but nothing for me. Again I thought about my own family, the bankruptcy, my father’s illness, and those particular people who literally saved our lives through their generosity. I had always told myself that I would never forget their compassion. I woke up the next morning and pulled the money out of the bank. I thought on the way to school about how to approach Luis. What was the morally right thing to do? I thought about loaning the money. I considered paying for half. Finally I came to a conclusion. For once, Luis deserved a break. We sat up on the hill the next day and I handed him the envelope. I told him about my family and how I much I respected him and his unfailing work ethic. I gave him the money and told him that there was no catch. He refused the money. Luis is proud, just like my father. I handed him the money one more time, telling him that there was a lesson in all of this. He didn’t have to go this alone. We both sat there for a while, chocked up and unable to talk more. Luis finally took the help and went out to buy the horse the next day. I know that in some people’s minds, what I did was probably not the right thing to do. For me, it was the only human response possible. Luis is my friend.

Quick Updates (September/October)


Dirty Jokes
I had the great joy of inviting my coworkers to my house the other day for lunch. We had been in a training workshop in the morning and my boss had given us the rest of the day off. When my coworkers started to complain that they would be put straight to work when they got home, I suggested we take it easy at my house. These people NEVER take it easy. We made chicken and rice with fried plantains, sat around telling stories and even bought a bottle of rum. I got the idea that watching a movie together might be fun, so I grabbed the DVD’s my mom and sister have sent and showed them the options. They picked the 40 Year Old Virgin (dubbed in Spanish of course). I have never seen a group of people laugh so loud in my life. They made commentaries about everything, getting mad at the characters and offering life stories in between. It was not your conventional viewing. They even rewound the video three times to re-watch the opening boner scene with Steve Carell. They found it unbearably hilarious. I was pleased to find that Potty humor translates into all cultures and languages.

Matt Littrell’s Whirlwind Visit
My friend Matt Littrell emailed me the other day on a Monday night asking about when a good time to visit would be. In true Matt spontaneity, he was here by Friday morning. It was super fun hanging out and talking about old friends, the future and life in general. We met a couple of girls at the Laguna de Apollo and traveled with them to Granada where I got bed bugs, but other than that had a blast roaming around the colonial town. Matt was gone a few days later, but officially made me ready to see everyone again. True to form, as any good friend should, Matt arrived off the plane with a big bottle of Grey Goose in hand. Thanks to PJ and Rob for setting that standard.

No Rain

The last few months have been quite difficult for my community here. Unlike last years storms that destroyed harvests and caused innumerable illnesses, this year has been particularly dry. As a social worker, I thank god for the warm weather that has allowed our sick children and elderly to survive this normally treacherous season. As a community member I sit frustrated with my friends, as yet again their crops die from unexpected and unfavorable weather. Few crops mean very little income, which results in extremely limited meals, further illness and the greatest effect - a vast depression of spirit. There is very little one can do in this situation. We simply wait for the next harvest season and share resources in the mean time. Please pray for the small farmers of San Isidro de Bolas.

Election Fever
The presidential elections are next week. One candidate is a hugely corrupt Sandinista commander who is promising zero unemployment, apparently unaware of the unfavorable nature of zero unemployment on a growing economy. Another is the owner of a local bank who gained fame when he scandalously funneled money to his pals and family during the collapse of the bank system a few years back. Yet another is the handpicked mouthpiece of Arnoldo Aleman the now jailed former president who shamelessly stole the countries relief money in the last hurricane. The best option the country has as far as a non-corrupt leader goes is a guy whose posters eloquently state “Vote for the ugly guy who wants a pretty Nicaragua”. God have mercy on our souls.

The Free Food Revolution

In all the world, free stuff is the ultimate motivator. Nicaragua is no exception. Just about every day I find myself amazed at the random things that make there way to our center, whether we like it or not. Some of the gems I can remember off-hand that have come as “donations” have included: big red chewing gum (past sale date), Stater Bros 50% off sale stickers, small silk coin purses (each including two small marbles that were actually a hit with the boys), the English version of the New Testament (highly useful in a community where many still can’t read in Spanish), we even received a shipment of USAID Rice that came with an oversized poster of George Bush, the patron saint of charity. This was just days after CAFTA was officially signed, assuring the rapid destruction of San Isidro’s, and most of Nicaragua’s, agriculturally based economy. Gotta love progress.

In the name of saving money and taking advantage of all resources, my bosses have recently began a very intelligent process of requesting past date foods for immediate use in our kitchen. We serve food to over 500 people per day. As one can imagine, this gets expensive. Every day companies throw away thousands of dollars in products that are still perfectly useable but have simply past there sell date. We have in turn found an array of companies eager to donate their overstock. This change has resulted in both an increase and decrease in my quality of life.

The good news is that the Marimba Juice Company has saved our stomachs from parasite-ridden fruit juice, providing me and our students with a sealed and sane beverage option. The bad news is that the local butchers have also jumped in on the “Donate my waste product” bandwagon. Now, instead of the conventional rice and beans, maybe a soup or even a soy hash dish, we find ourselves eating minced cow heart over rice, stewed intestine and chicken foot goulash, among other fine delicacies arranged from the generosity and good will of our friends in the live stock business. This new development has left me feeling like a total prude, involuntarily watching my face curl up in disgust at each meal like a middle aged aristocratic woman whose been dropped off at an Insane Clown Posy concert. I literally threw up in my mouth the other day when I found myself spooning around my soup a set of lungs and heart still connected. My kids on the other hand are ecstatic with the increase of meat in their diets. At any given moment these days one can find a spare organ, hove, or even eyeball saved for later in the pockets of my fourth grade boys. It’s precious.