Into the Wild Spaces

All's well down Nicaragua-way, but I'm busier than I've been since leaving Boston, and my old Peace Corps hammock-days seem like they ended a million years ago. The Hurricane Mitch Reconstruction program is nearing its midpoint now, and there's plenty going on: dam safety inspections, hydrologic modeling, designs for failing rural roads, river bank-stabilization, technical assistance, quality management programs, aerial mapping, and all the logistics work that accompany those endeavors. I'm having fun, but I'm working nights and weekends again.

One trip into the mountains of Nicaragua took me through the gorgeous Pantasma River Valley of Jinotega which was verdant with fresh oranges at the time. We stopped along the road to enjoy some fresh guirila (sweet corn tortillas cooked over a wood fire) and farmers' cheese, and then fought our way through the mud to the river's edge to find that it had swollen during the previous night's downpour, and there was no way to get the vehicle across. But in Nicaragua there always is a way, if you're willing to be patient. We struck a deal with the owner of an old east-German truck left over from the war years, and crossing the river on a small footbridge with our survey equipment on our backs, rode in a bumpy piece of history out to the project site. Some day when my commute once again consists of interstates and cloverleaves, I'll miss Nicaragua- all of its hardships and all of its adventures- dearly.

What I won't miss however, is the sadness of such desperation. In my three years in this poor little country I've seen the situation grow even more dire and poor people grow far poorer: two banks have folded in the past three months requiring the expenditure of tens of millions of dollars' worth of the government's international reserves. Both banks folded for the same reason: the owners lent all the money to themselves and never paid it back. The inevitable devaluation of the national currency that ensues is going to be a hard blow to many. The high-level corruption and embezzlement continues unfettered with the distinction that now in the final year of the Liberal party's rule it's more blatant than ever, even unabashed. Last week the president fired half of the Ministry of Transportation (before Christmas!) in political vengeance, and last night Sandinistan supporters blocked the highways and stormed the National Assembly for really the same anger that's consuming American voters: the November mayoral votes are taking too long to count and noone's sure that they're being counted fairly. These days, even ex-patriots and aid-workers grit their teeth in anger and impotence against a system that lets the powerful rob with impunity from the second poorest people in the Americas. The anger and helplessness that the Nicaraguan people feel must be so much more acute. "We're Indians," a young man in Jinotega told me forebodingly, "and an Indian never forgets."

Which makes me wonder yet again how it is I can love this country so much. What I'm learning after three full years in Central America is that Nicaragua's charm is its simplicity, and the meaning that simplicity lends to life. What I pondered while traveling this month, as the darkness of night finally crept over the mountains of Chinandega and the smoke of wood fires began to curl upwards through the tile roofs was this: that Nicaragua's neediness implies hope, and that because Nicaragua has so many problems there are so many ways to help.

And so while the Hurricane Mitch program thunders through the holiday season and into 2001, Nicaragua remains to me what it has always been: the scraping sound of crickets in the evening and the silhouette of the jagged earth against the night sky, a country where people aren't afraid to talk to strangers and you can get a smile out of a kid by giving him one first. The stars are crisp over the mountains now that the rains have passed, and the wood smoke still smells vaguely of beans and corn, the cashew trees are full of fragrant pink buds and the avocado trees are in flower. There's still plenty of adventure in Nicaragua for those who are willing to look for it, and plenty of beauty for those who appreciate simplicity. And Orion, rising on the eastern horizon, brings with him a sense of reassurance and peace.