I spent the past week, with the exception of the weekend, in Managua finishing up Spanish class (I can´t believe it either!), immersing myself in our module called "The Culture of Peace," and enjoying increasingly subtle, though no less revealing, learning experiences.
The other day I was reading the novel, La Mujer Habitada (The Inhabited Woman), by Gioconda Belli, an extraordinary Nicaraguan author-poet. I came acoss the word, azahare, which I could not find in my dictionary, and asked my host dad, Eddy, what it means. Eddy, an overweight, uneducated bus driver, physically slow due to a stroke, smiled at me warmly and began reciting a poem by Nicaragua´s pride and joy: Ruben Darío. Los azahares, I deduced, are organge blossoms.
One of the most striking elements of Nicaraguan culture is the people s genuine love of poetry. Children and adults, rich and poor, educated and uneducated write and/or recite poetry. Ruben Darío and others are quoted daily- in speeches, newspapers, murals and graffiti, and the belief that everyone is a poet is cited often. Interestingly, literacy does not seem to be a prerequistie for an appreciation of poetry, and actually, in my experience, the correllation is nonexistent. During the war, poetry camps, in which citizens were brought together in warehouses to create poetry, were formed, to maintain this essential element of Nicaraguan culture. Perhaps it is the natural beauty of this country that provokes expression through poetry- awe-inspiring volcanoes and lakes are abundant - or the painful throes of war and curruption. Regardless, I am amazed when an illiterate peasant recites a verse, or a middle-aged man uses Darío´s art to define ¨orange blossom.¨
***
I have told a few of you about the sweat shops, or, euphemistically, the free trade zones, in Nicaragua. Cement buildings surrounded by barbed wire two-stories high, spewing pollution into the sky, are the workplaces of thousands of Nicas. Sickly, boney people and dogs mill around these cement and wire compounds. Trash blows in the wind. Villages of plastic, carboard and tin homes have sprung up around the sites.
I´ve also told a few of you about the strange abundance of popular U.S. brands such as American Eagle, Abercrombie and Fitch, Reef, Hollister, and Aeropostale in run-down shops on Managua´s street corners. A Lacoste polo here costs under $6.00.
I was disgusted when I put two and two together.
When I returned from the campo I felt weighed down by my numerous possessions. I have few here and many more at home and every one of them is tugging at me. I feel like I´m dragging them along behind me. More exhausting, though, is the moral weight of my things, which is exacerbated by sheer quantity. How much suffering did this shirt cause? What about the bag and book? Of course these sentiments are wrapped up in neoliberalism and the inherent inequities of global economic systems, but the reality - the implications - are here on the ground.
Here´s another one: My host family in the campo produce coffee, which they sell to cooperatives in Matagalpa for pennies, which then sell it to companies in the U.S and Europe. Dark, robust, organic coffee. But, they drink and served me Nes-Cafe. Believe it or not, it was cheaper for them to buy this weak, instant variety than to consume their own crop. (Transforming the grape-like coffee beans to the dried, shelled and roasted beans we buy in the grocery store at home can be a long and expensive process...) I can´t stop thinking about how by purchasing Nes-Cafe, my campo host family inadervtantly exploits their neighbors - some other group of poor peasants, slaving away in a (most likely) U.S.-owned coffee plantation. What a system! It is cheaper to buy a processed, tasteless, chemical-filled variety of your own crop, than to create it it yourself. They have no option but to propogate an insidious system that fundamentally immobilizes them!
I have told a few of you about the sweat shops, or, euphemistically, the free trade zones, in Nicaragua. Cement buildings surrounded by barbed wire two-stories high, spewing pollution into the sky, are the workplaces of thousands of Nicas. Sickly, boney people and dogs mill around these cement and wire compounds. Trash blows in the wind. Villages of plastic, carboard and tin homes have sprung up around the sites.
I´ve also told a few of you about the strange abundance of popular U.S. brands such as American Eagle, Abercrombie and Fitch, Reef, Hollister, and Aeropostale in run-down shops on Managua´s street corners. A Lacoste polo here costs under $6.00.
I was disgusted when I put two and two together.
When I returned from the campo I felt weighed down by my numerous possessions. I have few here and many more at home and every one of them is tugging at me. I feel like I´m dragging them along behind me. More exhausting, though, is the moral weight of my things, which is exacerbated by sheer quantity. How much suffering did this shirt cause? What about the bag and book? Of course these sentiments are wrapped up in neoliberalism and the inherent inequities of global economic systems, but the reality - the implications - are here on the ground.
Here´s another one: My host family in the campo produce coffee, which they sell to cooperatives in Matagalpa for pennies, which then sell it to companies in the U.S and Europe. Dark, robust, organic coffee. But, they drink and served me Nes-Cafe. Believe it or not, it was cheaper for them to buy this weak, instant variety than to consume their own crop. (Transforming the grape-like coffee beans to the dried, shelled and roasted beans we buy in the grocery store at home can be a long and expensive process...) I can´t stop thinking about how by purchasing Nes-Cafe, my campo host family inadervtantly exploits their neighbors - some other group of poor peasants, slaving away in a (most likely) U.S.-owned coffee plantation. What a system! It is cheaper to buy a processed, tasteless, chemical-filled variety of your own crop, than to create it it yourself. They have no option but to propogate an insidious system that fundamentally immobilizes them!
More to come on coffee later... Also, stay tuned with the presidential elections in El Salvador. I´m going to be an official international election observer this Sunday!
Stay well and happy!
Love,
Em
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