May 2005

Just when I thought I knew everything there was to know about Nicaragua, I’ve been given a whole new perspective. My previous three years here, I’ve been focused on politics and macroeconomics, and while I still follow both (you can’t really follow one without the other), I’m now working with delegations, and I’ve gotten to see parts of Nicaragua I never knew existed.

For example, I'd been up to Matagalpa—up north and up into the mountains. But, I'd never been deep into the mountains of Jinotega. There, the altitude climbs sharply, and the temperature drops just as fast. I live in Managua, where room temperature is 80 degrees, but in the mountains, there are days where it never reaches 70. At night, the temperature drops into the 40s. One morning, we could actually see our breath.

But it was well worth it, because the mountains are amazingly beautiful. Their ruggedness has slowed the logging that has turned other parts of Nicaragua from jungle to desert, and the mist drifting across them rivals the Smokey Mountains or the hills of Ireland.

CEPAD's delegate in the region, Juan Carlos Palma, is introducing a new way to process coffee, the main crop there. The most revolutionary part is cleaning it by swishing it around in a big concrete vat full of water with a broom, instead of washing it down a concrete sluice and letting the water do the work. This simple innovation reduces the water used by 90 percent. The coffee farmers save money, produce higher-quality coffee, and reduce pollution. CEPAD is there, meeting the people’s needs.

Another need in the region is decent roads. Most people cannot afford vehicles, or even pack animals, and so they must sell their coffee to the buyers who drive out to them. This means they have to take whatever price they are offered, because they may not get another chance. If there were better roads, conventional vehicles could use them, putting transportation (and competition) within reach of some families or cooperatives.

Better roads would also mean a better price for bananas, another crop grown there. Currently, they have to sell their bananas green, because if they sold them ripe, the rough ride to market would damage them, and they wouldn't sell. Just as with coffee, roads would mean the ability to compete on something closer to their own terms in the market.

Here in Managua, I've been given a whole new perspective on health issues. In the middle of November, only a week after returning from my speaking tour in the United States, I broke my left foot by slipping off the curb at the airport and smashing it under the suitcase I was carrying. I had to wear a large, heavy cast for three weeks. I gained a whole new appreciation for the difficulties that the handicapped or injured face here. Sidewalks are broken and uneven, where they exist at all. There are curb cuts, but they go straight into busy streets. Sometimes there are ramps into buildings, but they were obviously designed by someone who never spent any time in a wheelchair, because they are far too steep. I also discovered that tile floors, which they keep so clean, are very slippery for crutches.

Then, to add insult to irony, I proceeded to break my right foot six weeks after getting the cast off my left foot by stepping in a hole. I had to spend all of February in another cast, but this time, it was a smaller, much lighter cast, and in spite of the second being a worse break than the first, I could still walk, using a cane. With this added time on the injured list, I gained insight into the life of people with permanent injuries. It is not uncommon to see people here missing an arm, or leg, or a hand, or an eye. Most of these are from the war, but some are from accidents, fights, birth defects, or any number of other things.

I could still do most of my job with my cast, and I got it off after a month. The beggars I see every day will not get their legs back, or their fingers, or their eyes. They will never get jobs, because even the able-bodied and well-qualified struggle to find work. Most couldn’t even turn to a life of crime. They will beg every day for the rest of their lives.

Many of them are veterans. Many gave orders, risked their lives, watched friends die. They held life and death in their hands, and now they have only a few coins in their hands—the ever-dwindling price of their dignity.

Perhaps it’s to avoid putting a price on dignity that I don’t give money to beggars. Giving to beggars is a double-edged sword—it sustains them, but it also validates begging as a means of making a living. I know it might help them buy food (or alcohol) in the short run, but I could give away every cent I own, and the social structures that put them on the street would still be putting people on the street.

If we want to make a real difference in the world, we cannot shrink from challenging these social structures. We must challenge the payment of Nicaragua’s internal and external debt. We must challenge the ratification of CAFTA. We must challenge the dominance the US embassies have over the governments of small nations such as Nicaragua. We must challenge the theory and practice of neoliberalism. If struggling against injustice means being politically active, then we should not hesitate to become politically active. This is what the rural and urban poor of Nicaragua need from us.

Steve Herrick

The 2005 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 57