Most of you probably know I lived in Nicaragua for a time—about six months—overseeing renovations to my father’s house, where he lives even now.
Me? I’m no fan of the country, nor its politics, nor do I romanticize the pervasive, grinding subsistence poverty in the countryside and sad, soul destroying poverty in the cities. About two dozen rapacious families guarantee Nicaragua’s place as second poorest nation in this hemisphere.
Nicaragua is not without its charms. I have a deep respect for the people of one of three nations in this hemisphere who, one, told the United States to fuck off and two, have largely succeed in keeping the US at arms length. The Spanish spoken in Nicaragua is, in two words, incomprehensibly unique. They distinguish between beans and rice and rice and beans. Seriously they make up two distinct dishes, although I can’t tell the difference. They eat some crazy vegetables—they have ten different varieties of squash, which I detest. But, they know how to cook meat in ways as diverse as barbecue, stew, seared and broiled. Chicken, pork, beef (no lamb or goats) and of course gallino de palo (tree-chickens AKA iguanas) make up the usual tasty fare.
Nicaragua’s best aspect is its untapped collection of perfectly sized waves, best on the Central American Pacific Coast by my estimation; waves for beginners and pros alike. There is only one monster, which I’ll get to in a moment. Sadly (or not) the changes in the political situation between 2015-2025 have scared off most surfers and they’ve migrated to Costa Rica, which has some sweet waves and parts of Guatemala that remain damned near empty. But, I digress.
One late morning, completely disgusted after persistently being thrashed by the waves breaking on the beach at Popoyo—the barrels collapsed so rapidly I was unable to get all but three drops (and no, I was not surfing the A-frame point break Popoyo is famous for, as a beginner I had no death wish I’ve seen too many boards munched on that wave) so I gave up, hopped in the car and began the two hour drive back to Granada.
After 30 minutes drive on a dirt road I turned north on Nicaragua’s stretch of the Pan-American Highway. No fan of Latin music (the radio was off) my mind wandered along the amazing scenery. Volcanoes rose. Small villages disappeared in a sneeze. The olive shades of Lake of Nicaragua were seemingly endless. Isla Ometepe, an island of twin volcanoes, shot up and passed by just as quickly. A few small attempts at agriculture grew to my left and right. All disappeared in blur or blink.
But time passes strange in a foreign land and stranger still on the road. I pulled over next to an anemic sugar cane field, cut a small stalk, sliced it into three pieces and returned to the car. As I shaved the outer layer off and bit into the heart of the cane, two thoughts, as if in quantum superposition, occupied my mind.
“Damn, this is sweet!” Mundane, indeed, but the other was the “a-ha” moment my brain had been silently working out for the last hour.
“Holy shit,” I mouthed silently, “Nicaragua is full of a whole lot of nothing.” Sure, up north in the mountains they grow some mid-grade coffee. Tobacco growth is accelerating also. Why in the current anti-tobacco global climate I don’t know? But it is. Cassava is a major crop, it’s like a potato but tastes like a brown paper bag on a good day. True hunger makes much palatable, I suppose. Plantains and bananas are grown of course. And there are a handful of other root-like plants and squash-like plants that grow there also. The country imports most of its rice, but grows a lot of beans/legumes.
Later I shared this realization with my father who was as surprised as I was by the realization. He agreed. Of course, Dad and I think alike in many ways—father and son, best friends, traveled in 50 plus nations together—so we quickly developed a shorthand for my “whole lot of nothing” observation, calling it ‘low hanging fruit’ syndrome, LHF for short.
LHF came to signify the lack of economic development and general lack of entrepreneurial spirit in Central America. Now, not every nation on the planet is going to be entrepreneurial. Laos is an excellent example—and please this is not a criticism of Laos and Laotians. When I was there they just seemed to have other priorities, like Buddhism. But Nicaraguan’s? The Pinoleros—the preferred demonym of the Nicaraguans and it has not one whit of the pejorative to it—are natural, gifted hustlers, practically pure bred entrepreneurs who are imbued with a naturally prepossessing work ethic and quite a bit of chutzpah. In short: they know when to engage, when to toss out a bit of bullshit. They can sell with the best Wall Street sharks—I’d know—and they know how to make and keep money.
“Why then,” you ask, “is Nicaragua, the largest nation in Central America, making no economic progress and going backwards instead?”
Great question!
There are two reasons for Nicaragua’s penury. First, 90% of Nicaraguans live west of the Pacific slope or in the interior highlands. This population occupies only 38% of Nicaragua’s landmass. The remaining 10% of Nicaraguans live on a narrow strip of the Caribbean Coast or the Corn Islands. Almost two thirds of the country—62%— is uninhabited. Not that I am advocating the rapine of all the pristine tropical forest of the Caribbean lowlands, but far to little of it is being developed and far too many people occupy a very crowded Pacific slope. What is the cause of this underdevelopment? The Pacific slope is littered with LHF and to travel through the Caribbean Lowlands to the coast takes two days on very, very bad roads. Until there is significant infrastructure development that opens the lowlands to development Nicaragua will remain mired in LHF poverty.
Hurdles aside, development politics in Central and South Americ are undergoing a seismic shift. That’s good news for the Pinoleros, money is pouring in. It’s bad news for the USA because the cash is coming from China. As is China’s policy, the money comes with no strings attached, unlike American money with its persistent moral litany of “Do this, don’t do that!”
“Do as we say, not as we do!”
This is not what the Nicaraguans hear from China. The only real demand the Chinese make is on the bigger infrastructure projects. Chinese builders design it, and Chinese build it, hiring few, if any local workers—usually because they don’t have the skills. The Chinese also pay for it, mostly, and don’t lecture. The US can’t compete—not after 150 years of terrible behavior in Latin America. The conclusion, the only conclusion, one can come to in Nicaragua and many other Latin American nations is that the USA is losing influence and power to China. Big time. And fast.
We have a sustained current account deficit with Nicaragua of $1.9 billion. That means we consistently import more from them than we export. China is the reverse. Much of that is due to FDI (foreign direct investment). This investment doesn’t benefit China solely. At present China is building a huge new airport that’s primary goal is to displace the Avianca Hub in San Salvador as the go to airport in Central America. China funded it to the tune of $499 million. It will possess two 4,000 meter runways, long enough and large enough to accommodate Airbus A380 and other wide body jets. The airport is intended to act as a non-stop hub to Europe, Asia and all of South America. Ground has been broken and the expected operational date is sometime in 2028.
The Chinese are also going to help build out the road network to the Caribbean Coast. This will create many new opportunities. Ortega, for all his faults, brought about some serious land reform at the beginning of his rule, so the Caribbean lowlands are now open to just about anyone who has the gumption to settle them.
The decline in American power is as palpable now as it was during the COVID epidemic. The moment COVID was politicized I could literally sense our decline, it was so obvious. Now, under Trump II, the decline is accelerating. Even in our own backyard.
The jury is still out on whether it is rapidly relative decline or real decline. I think it is the latter, only time will tell. Just not enough time for my taste.
On that note: please, please, support this site, subscribe or donate. We’re about $1,800 from our goal of $12,500.
mago
There’s too much happening in my life today to make a lengthy comment. I have history with Nicaragua and Nicas as they’re called in Costa Rica.
The Chinese influence was strong when I was there thirteen years ago, and the US didn’t like it then anymore than they do now. One project that received little media attention was the proposed canal linking the Atlantic and the Pacific from the Mosquito Coast using the inlet that the pirate Drake used to get to Granada. Any word on that?
Sean Paul Kelley
@Mago: I’m going to answer your question first and then make an assertion about something you said. To answer: in my opinion, the canal will never be built by the Chinese or anyone. The port-rail-to-port across the Isthmus of Tehuantepec in Mexico is much more cost effective as shipping containers and rail containers are all now equally standardized and interchangable. It’ll actually be faster to move goods across the narrow Mexican isthmus than going through the Panama Canal.
As for your assertion about Chinese influence in Central American 13 years ago, I think you were experiencing a large Taiwanese influx meant to preserve diplomatic recognition and not lose it to the mainland. I do not recall all the CA nations that recognized Taiwan over the mainland, but I know Belize and Honduras did, perhaps Guatemala too. But I am not sure. How well do you remember the period? Sincere question, I’m curious that way.
mago
Thanks for your response Sean Paul Kelley.
What I remembre is the Chinese built a soccer stadium in San José, the Costa Rica capitol. They also bought cars and guns for the federal police.
The US in turn financed a state of the art airport in Liberia and also trained the security staff. There was a fair amount of tit for tat going on.
Glad to hear the canal won’t be built; it would have been an environmental disaster that displaced indigenous populations.
Sean Paul Kelley
@Mago: thanks for the response. You are correct about Costa Rica, China was making one of its first attempts to challenge US hegemony in this hemisphere. I remember the spat very well.
As for the canal: it would absolutely wreck Lago de Nicaragua, introduce ecosystem killing invasive species from the Atlantic and Pacific and pollute an already overpolluted lake. And if built it would probably age out in 50 years, requiring widening like the Panama Canal did. It would be an absolute disaster on every level. That’s why I’m quite positive on the Isthmus of Tehuantepec project. It doesn’t intermix the Atlantic waters and Pacific waters, is faster and can carry more in a day than the Panama Canal can. Mexico is doing it right.
someofparts
Also from China –
https://www.marineinsight.com/shipping-news/china-inaugurates-massive-1-3-billion-deep-water-port-in-peru-to-boost-trade/
https://jeffnewmanlaw.com/china-funding-port-constructions-in-mexico-to-shorten-shipping-routes-to-the-u-s-back-door/
As to your post above, what impact will the rapacious families you mentioned have on any development China brings to the country? Will it benefit the general population, or will those families sideline it somehow to capture the preponderance of the advantages for themselves?
Also, apologies for not giving you the benefit of the doubt since you have been posting at Ian’s site. I had to review Sexual Personae for a neighborhood newsletter I was working for when the book came out. Paglia looks like she is crazy enough to be fun to have a beer with, but feminist she decidedly is not.
I am old enough to remember the first days of second wave feminism. It was a glorious thing before it got pushed aside by the fundamentalist backlash. I stopped talking about it decades ago but will never as long as I live forget what was lost, or stop being angry at all the powers that be who buried it.
So, I am sorry I got angry with you, but fake feminists dancing on the grave of the real movement is hands down the most provocative thing anyone can toss my way. These days I am apparently not feminist if I didn’t vote for Hillary, which always makes me want to ask them how that worked out for the women in Libya.
Anyway, thanks for this post. I will try to be more balanced. I just have an enduring simmering anger about how genuine feminism has been sidelined and perverted in this country and you inadvertently wandered into that fire pit.
Also, as someone who used to read Agonist, does Numerian publish anywhere these days? His/her posts were eye-opening and much missed when they stopped. Also enjoyed Steelweed if he/she is publishing anywhere you could link to. Thanks as well for alerting me to Joe Bageant and Don Henry Ford, whose books are much valued parts of my library to this day.
Sean Paul Kelley
@Someofparts: first, thanks for the kind words. They are appreciated. As you were an Agonist reader you know how much I value civility in political discourse, so thanks. As to your position on second wave feminism and what was lost. I agree. My mom was a hardcore second wave feminist and she learned me a whole hell of a lot about how women should be treated, how men should act, and how generally not to be a male asshole. I love my mother more than one can imagine, but she was hard on me as a boy and teenager. Today I am grateful as I am generally very far ahead of most men in non-intimate relationships with women than just about all other men. One of my best friends is a lesbian. Another is a women I’ve known since I was 17. And let me just say it plain: you never, ever have to apologize to me for how you feel. Full stop. Feelings are visceral, often uncontrolable and are neither right nor wrong. Feelings just are. So, if I made you angry, cool. The result was your challenge back to me. I had to seriously think about what I wrote. And you know the old adage about changing minds, right? A man who can’t change his mind, will never change anything. So, I concede that Pagllia is a poseur.
I also share your anger at what has become of feminism. But, as a white male, with a fuckton of privilege by virtue of the accident of my plumbing, I must confess: I am sick and tired of being blamed for everything. Liberal males have been totally sidelined. Working class democratic males have it even worse. I’m all for equality of pay, equality in the workplace, but the depiction of 100 lbs girls slugging it out with three 210 lbs dudes in movies and winning has given GenZ women a very perverted view of their capabilities. This is not an excuse or a rationalization for violence against women. No man should ever hit a woman. But why is it okay to depict a woman hitting a man and suffer no conseqeunces? I don’t mean physical. But if violence is bad, then it is bad in all aspects and ocassions, right? I’ve digressed way too far off course.
To answer your question about the rapacious families: Ortega’s early land reforms made a real difference. And if his wife assumes power upon his death, or his daughter, I am not sure which one he is grooming, his land reform policies for opening the Caribbean lowlands will endure. That will go more than half way to keeping the Big 12 at bay. As for the Chinese and the Big 12, the Chinese just don’t tolerate oligarchy. Their aim, as I have seen it play out, is for a rising tide to lift all boats. Cliche, I know, but I’m getting kind of tired. They won’t accept the Big 12 just laying back and collecting rent.
As for Numerian, not sure what ever came of him, but he is missed. I hope this helps.
KT Chong
The melting Arctic ice is opening new northern sea routes that significantly shorten travel times between China and Europe and could eventually allow China to bypass the Panama Canal. Chinese ships have already begun using these routes for both economic and strategic reasons. Here are the three main Arctic routes:
1. Northern Sea Route (NSR) – along Russia’s Arctic coast
• Route: From the Bering Strait (between Russia and Alaska) → along the northern coast of Siberia → Barents Sea → North Atlantic → Europe.
• Usage: This is the route China uses most actively. It shortens the Shanghai–Rotterdam voyage by about 30–40% compared to the traditional route through the Suez Canal.
• Partners: China works with Russia on this route, branding it as part of the “Polar Silk Road.”
2. Northwest Passage (NWP) – through the Canadian Arctic Archipelago
• Route: Through Canada’s Arctic islands, connecting the Pacific (via the Bering Strait) to the Atlantic (via Baffin Bay).
• Leads to: Eastern North America — ports such as New York, Montreal, and other U.S. East Coast destinations — much faster than the Panama Canal route.
• Status: Ice conditions still make it risky, so it is not yet fully commercial. However, China has already conducted research and cargo voyages along this route.
• Projected viability: By 2030–2035, summer voyages may become commercially feasible for non-icebreaker cargo ships. By 2035-2040, safe passage without icebreakers will become viable all-year-round.
3. Transpolar Route (Central Arctic Route) – straight across the Arctic Ocean
• Route: Directly over the North Pole, not following coastlines.
• Leads to: Both Europe and North America, depending on the direction.
• Status: Mostly theoretical at present, as it would require even less ice. Once navigable, it would be the shortest possible route from Asia to Europe or North America.
• Projected viability: first navigable summers likely by 2040–2050, and full commercial feasibility by 2050–2060, assuming continued ice decline under current climate scenarios.
Sean Paul Kelley
@KT Chong: thanks for ruining my day. It’s not that climate change will destroy the planet. That’s human arrogance at work. What climate change will do is make the planet uninhabitable for us arrogant hairless primates. But life, in some form or another, will endure another 300-500 million more years. But we’ll have killed ourselves long before then. Thanks for the sad reminder.
someofparts
SPK – One of the finest compliments I ever got from a boyfriend was that I gave feminism a good name. No version of feminism I would ever support bashes men just for being men. Aside from the simple dimwitted nonsense of such practices, it is epically stupid strategy because, last time I checked, most women have children and share their family lives with men, and want nothing to do with a feminism that attacks the men they love. Bashing men, especially pushing them out of good jobs, hurts lots and lots of women and has no place in a civilized political movement.
Also sounds like I would like your mom.
Sean Paul Kelley
@someofparts: if you take your Scotch or Irish neat (or bourbon if you must), can spin a yarn, bullshit like a ranch hand, skin a rabbit, shoot a deer, ride a horse, burn a bra or two, raise a little hell at times, smack your stupid son upside the head with high heels for being a world class idiot and you despise Trump, the two of you would get along swimmingly.
Oh, fair warning: she’s also been known to smoke a little reefer on ocassion. I’ve smoked my fair share, but don’t anymore. Pot is so strong now I get uncontrolably paranoid. And I never got high with my Mom, that would just be imprudent, as I am the middle child and designated keeper of everyone’s secrets. I might blurt something de mauvais goût, you know?
someofparts
SPK – If that was how your mom acted never mind. If that is what you consider a feminist I would have to disagree with you. I had an utterly toxic mother myself and we could swap war stories about it all day. There are many words I would use to describe my own mother – bully, narcissistic, heartless, trauma victim – but never ever would the word feminist apply.
What I felt bad about afterward and came back to correct is this. Feminism, properly understood, is intended to center the conversation on women. Do we bash men? Do we praise them? Either way it is irrelevant. Feminism is about women, period.
I have had to learn a similar lesson figuring out what role I can play in the liberation struggles of my black neighbors/friends. What I came up with after a lifetime of thinking about it is this – my ONLY role in the justice struggles of blacks is to do what they cannot do. That means that my job is to speak up when there is no one black in the room. My job is to carry the struggle into white places where blacks are not represented.
I would suggest that the same rule applies to men. At the end of the day I will never know what it feels like to be black, any more that you will ever know what it is like to live as a woman. Our only useful role in the struggles of those whose experiences we can never share is to carry that voice for justice into the spaces closed to them but accessible to us because of our privilege.
It is never okay to hold forth about the struggles of others whose circumstances we can never share – to hold forth with the implied sense that we know better than they do what is good for them. At the end of the day that is colonialism, however lofty our intentions, and has no place in good faith discussions.
Toxic mothers like mine do special damage to the ability of their sons to have healthy relationships with women. I have certainly seen my brother struggle with that all of his life. I am sorry you had a mom like that and that you were subjected to such things. I have tried to understand my own toxic mother from a safe distance for my own sanity. There are plenty of reasons why women turn out that way, but feminism (or pot for that matter) are not among them.
someofparts
Actually, now that I think about it, getting really really stoned was one of the things I learned to do to cope with my mother. She always tried to pick fights with me. Turns out it is hard to pick a fight with someone so stoned they cannot form coherent sentences.
My mother was a teetotaler and a chain smoker. She was toxic in a pinched, fundamentalist, insidious way. Yours sounds like a whole different kind crazy in a full throttle, hard drinking, wild acting out way. I can’t imagine how anyone could cope with that, especially the children of such a woman.
As to Trump, of course I don’t like him, but neither do I let Clinton or Obama off the hook. I go out of my way to avoid people who think our problems will be solved once we get rid of Trump. My beef is with imperialism and with the racist, genocidal policies of this nation since its founding.
On a completely unrelated topic I forgot to thank you for sparking my interest in Istanbul. This led me to immerse myself in Dirilis Ertugrul and Kurulus Osman – histories of the founders of the Ottoman empire. This has shown me how limited and dishonest my own university study of history in this country has been. It has also exposed me to Muslim culture, which I am especially grateful for in our current, depressingly biased cultural moment here in the good ole USA. I will probably never travel at all, much less globe trot extensively as you have. However, thanks in a significant measure to you, I now have a keen interest in the cultures, histories and current circumstances of people outside of the English speaking world.
Mark Level
So Sean P. K. I want to thank you for a great piece and add my $2 (2 cents being worthless) to Mago’s far more recent time in the country. I spent somewhat over 3 months there, had to go to Costa Rica after 3 months to renew my visa, probably spent only 3 weeks picking after that (probably 7-8 weeks prior) and you clearly know the country much better than me, having been fully domiciled, I was either staying in cheap hospedajes or out with the CST (Central Sandinista de Trabajadores) & other Internacionalistas picking coffee, sleeping in a shared barracks for all at night.
I am so glad to hear that the Chinese are coming in with infrastructure aid and I was shocked at the statistics you gave about how much of the pais is uninhabited, though it generally agrees with what I observed over 4 decades ago (1983-84, a 6 month trip to the day, with overland trips back to the Mexican-Texas border bookending my cafe cutting.)
I well recall that El Salvador had 8 dominant families that owned everything, though I never went there. (Too scared, before leaving I knew both the wife and younger brother of Ben Linder, an Americano who went to fight in the FLMN alongside the guerillas, was killed.) As to the Nicaraguan pecking order, I knew mainly about the 2 dominant families, the Somozas and the Chamorros. My understanding at the time, not changed since, was that being rich the Chamorros were for many years collaborators with Somoza, but when he started stealing their lands “legally” late before the Revolution, many started going over to the revolutionary side, likely more based on pragmatism than on any Leftist fervor or ideology. Notoriously, when Nicaragua had been beaten into submission and near-starvation, no toilet paper, etc. in the late 80s, the country bent the knee and the sleazy neo-Quisling Violeta Chamorro was installed from 1990-97. Then her right-wing dictatorship (basically) became heated, and the Ortega (husband and wife) duo came back into power, where they remain today.
I remain mostly a fan of the Revolution I witnessed first-hand, would like to think I don’t over-romanticize the country too much. Inevitably, not having been there for 41 years, my recollections are very far in the past. Following are a few general observations and some experiences which I still recall today–
1. I will note or the record that Max Blumenthal and his wife Anya Paranpil love to vacation in Nicaragua, and have taken their young child there with them. I have great respect for both of them, Max is fearless and has vowed not to leave the US even as the fascism increases. I assume that they’d possibly pick Nicaragua if forced out. (Max comes from DC royalty, his father Sid was a Clinton lawyer back in the day, which is why maybe he’s done as much great journalism over 2 decades on Empire and the Zionist entity and hasn’t– yet, at least– met Charlie Kirk’s fate.)
2. I was always treated very well by the majority of Nicas, and my girlfriend Diane had mostly the same experience, though as an attractive Gringa she got lots of devoted male attention when we were out in public, not just in Nicaragua but in Mexico and elsewhere. In the 80s, many (not all) Latin-American men considered US women to be very sexually liberated and available, and worthy of pursuit. We were only treated badly a couple of times when we went to the fancy hotel in the capital (I can’t even recall it’s name) for a meal or coffee by some of the serving staff, who sensed we were Sandalista/ Pro-revolution and angry that rich people/ Oligarchs were not attending and obviously their tips weren’t as good. An example, we decided to share a pot of tea and got a half full, not even warm pot with one tea-bag in it. Also when we were outside getting ready to go in, a driver quickly drove over part of Diane’s foot (she was wearing tennis shoes) causing her several days’ of pain (they raced off after the assault) though luckily no bone break or external bleeding.
3. The first night I arrived at “the Finca” to pick, it was start of the harvest. I was told it was just known as THE Finca because it was the country’s largest, later I picked at a much smaller place, “cerca de Waslala” in the north, Leon I think, a great hotspot of the Revolution earlier in the 70s. Not sure the small place even had a name. Anyway they were opening the facility for the CST members and us visitors as well, and there was no food there yet, other than a small amount individuals had bought themselves. The Nicas generously offered that we Internationalists could eat what was there as the dinner hour hit and food hadn’t arrived yet. I demurred for awhile not wanting the White skin privilege, finally I agreed to a small amount of rice and beans, and soon after the entire delivery arrived.
4. Our diet was: arroz y frijoles, tortillas, a small amount of lechuga 6 days weekly, a bit of sal for seasoning 3x a day, I think soda was available (though I had hypoglycemia and quit soda before my trip) and sometimes beer was provided, or we could buy it nearby with a little walk. Ironically, I had to quit drinking coffee while picking coffee. They mixed a disgusting brew which contained more sugar than cafe, tasted so sweet it was actually bitter and disgusting!! I drank half a cup and swore off it; if I hadn’t, I’d be dead of diabetes long before now. On Sundays they would butcher a cow so there was meat once weekly. My dad grew up on a poor little farm in S. Dakota, the first time I saw a cow slaughtered I was off beef, and resolved not to eat it in the future, which I’ve mainly followed except for “when in Rome” exceptions over the years. Also when we would travel, you’d just hitch-hike and people would pick you up. Once me and an older gringo friend were in the back of a pickup truck with 3 women with 5 small children and a dead cow with shit leaking out of its anus. This kind of exposure reinforced my food taboo. An odd side-effect, my digestive system and bowels became perfectly regimented by abstaining from coffee and meat. Every day I would shit once, at the same time of day, about 10:12 am, I could look up into the sky and see the Sun at pretty much the same position. Oh, and I received about $5 weekly in addition to room and board in payment for picking.
5. Most Nicas I knew were kind, friendly, tolerant, sometimes quiet, sometimes chatty, there was lots of friendly teasing and joking. I was embarrassed the first day I picked coz (I was 23 at the time) a 15 year-old girl picked more latas than me. Of course, that might have been her 2nd year picking so maybe she had an advantage. I got better over time, but most Nicas could outpick me of course. That girl early on had yelled “Mama! Un Zapo!” fearfully (Zapo is frog) and it became a long-running repeated joke litany when we were picking. Once the same teenager told me, unprompted, “Yo soy virgin.” I had no context for the admission, wondered whether it was a confession, I said nothing and just walked away. Later after leaving the site, I realized she might’ve been making small talk and sharing that her astrological sign was Virgo. There were some young intellectuals at the site, I made a couple of friends who were in college, would inspect my Spanish-English dictionary and throw phrases back at me. There were less-educated folks as well of course. Speaking of weird verbiage, once a bunch of us were sitting on a hilltop and the moon was out. A guy said (by this point, after 5 weeks travel to Nicaragua and a couple weeks picking, I was generally fluent) “I have hear that that’s another planet and is very different from Earth!” I made some anodyne comment, yes, it is a satellite of the Earth and rotates around it, left it at that. Could’ve been a sincere share, could’ve just been messing with me, who knows.
6. Flora and fauna– I had learned about omnivorous goats on the journey there, seen them eating plastic bags and once even chewing on a tin can like in cartoons. We Internationalists were given the choice of sitting guard duty with an AK-47 once weekly with others, in a trench, in case of Contra attack (since the Finca was large, as stated). I had read Malcolm X and did not demur as some of the pacifists did. One of the 5 or so nights I did this, someone nearby in the trench shot off a round, everyone sleeping nearby woke up. We waited and there were no return rounds, it was a false alarm. My heart was racing anyway. The excuse was made, “Somebody saw un mono,” a monkey. I dunno, I picked for weeks in that area and had never seen simians. I did have a very unpleasant experience under a small tree, felt a sudden sharp pain, looked down and a very large cienpies (biting centipede) had fallen on me, perhaps it was more a milpies, it was at least 15 inches long, iridescent blue-green and nasty looking. Years later when I saw the film version of Burroughs’ Naked Lunch in a theater it brought back the memory. Oh, the people I picked with did have a rather cavalier attitude toward animal life, a favorite game when picking was done and we were just sitting around outside was to find a red or black hormiga (ant) as the 2 species were implacable enemies, expose it to the other and watch them battle to the death.
6. Even though it was several years after la Victoria, there was still a genuine, sincere Revolutionary spirit among most people as far as I could tell. Once we were lining up for the morning song of the National Anthem, there were 3 guys who were being openly gay, gender-fluid. At least one was wearing women’s make-up and they were hugging and mugging affection. Despite all the supposed macho of the Central American culture, nobody was rude or said anything negative, as fellow workers they were totally okay with it, at least publicly as far as I could tell. There was one guy who had very little education and was a great picker, who in the evenings was reading Marx’s Das Capital in Spanish. I talked with him a bit to see if he’d gotten much from it, seemed not to have at that point. But hey, at least the aspiration was there, and who knows, he may’ve gotten a college education later.
7. A few small high/ low points I remember was staying in a hospedaje en route to renew my Visa and meeting a young soldier just a couple days’ away from a battle with the Contras and clearly suffering from PTSD. He enthusiastically told me about the battle, said the Contras he’d faced were “very strong”, it was interesting to meet someone who’d faced death so directly. At the 2nd place I’d picked, when we arrived we heard that the Contras had been thru a few weeks prior and murdered a mom and her 8-year old daughter along with burning down some crops. We often heard the Pajaros Negros (Blackbird) planes breaking the sound barrier flying too high to be seen as well. Oh the blessings of Imperial Liberty!! I only saw one dead body the entire time I was in country (I had only seen one prior, someone hit by the side of the road in Louisiana, which I drove by with friends.) It was Navidad/ Xmas and la gente partied down. (Oh, I neglected to mention, we could often drink the local Ron/rum as well. Despite the sugar content I could drink this with no problem, due to proper fermentation I guess, and I’ve never been big on beer after I turned 17 so I stuck to this, watered down, no ice out there.) To get to the camp showers, which had no heat, one had to walk across the lip of a small dam nearby, so some poor guy had drunk too much and fell in. They pulled the body out and took us to see him and gave us a warning lecture the morning after he drowned. His skin was literally blue, it was more than a little creepy, many people felt guilty and bad about what had happened.
8. Speaking of the showers I had last taken a hot one was on the way South in a nice tourist place in Guatemala (as I shared previously on this site, I did not directly witness the Elliot Abrams Genocide while there, though Diane and I were once pulled off a bus by child soldiers with rifles taller than them had they stood them up vertically). I had my next one probably after a good 4 months, it was ecstasy, also on the return trip thru Guatemala. (Nothing like that available to me in Honduras.) When I’d taken all those cold showers it always made me hyperventilate, my body reacted badly to sustained cold. And since I mentioned Elliot Abrams, isn’t it disgusting how the US Political Establishment rehabilitated him fully, he was last working in the Biden Admin as some kind of “human rights” official, I’d guess, additionally he sits on the Board of the US Holocaust Museum. The satirical musician Tom Lehrer quit songwriting when Kissinger was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, he said nothing he could write would top that, this country is shamelessly genocidal, at least the ruling classed D and R are, as well as the NYT WaPo and establishment media of course.
So in closing, I mainly have very warm feelings for Nicaraguans, but no illusions either. Back in the ‘teens, Harper’s did a good piece on how the Ortegas’ (plural) pandered to the Fetus Fanatics in country (it is socially conservative, of course) and instituted laws against women’s bodily autonomy as severe and gross as those seen next door in Honduras. Pols gotta pander I guess, and few Revolutionaries age well over time, see Fidel, Vaclav Havel, or Mandela turning S. Africa over to Neoliberal economics after 1994, whites are a tiny minority holding over 70% of the land to this day. (The ones who are likely to have integrity and be sincere, like say Patrice Lumumba, are always murdered early of course.)
Still hoping to move to Mexico early next year, getting my Spanish back up to 100% before going. I’m spoiled and prefer places a bit more cosmopolitan, something Mexico certainly doesn’t lack.
mago
Thanks for your memories Mark Level. Most interesting. Just a teensy quibble: it’s sapo, not zapo and it’s a toad, not a frog. It’s so named because its skin is coated with saponin, a bitter substance shared by quinoa to ward off predators. Didn’t stop my dog from swallowing one whole after a rainstorm and cooking shift.
I was hanging out with the security guard sharing a bowl when it happened, and he was like quick, get a lime and milk.
I dashed upstairs, unlocked the restaurant gate and grabbed both items.
Tinko the guard pried open Sombra’s jaws while I squirted lime juice and poured milk down her maw. She staggered around and hacked up a toad intact and alive.
Gotta respect that campesino knowledge.
I’ve relayed this anecdote here before.
On another note, I did fifteen to twenty border crossings from Costa Rica to Nicaragua for visa renewals. Spent time in Granada, but never ate a pomegranate. That’s a joke.
Granada =pomegranate. Never mind.
One night off gringo street a couple of young crack whores accosted me and one tried to pick my pocket. I let it go, and bought them frito from a street vendor. That’s fried chicken with plátanos and potatoes.
After that a pleasant young Nica attached himself to me and asked if he could be of help. Maybe some mota? What happened after that was so strange and dark that I scrubbed my later account of it off my computer.
I have other stories and anecdotes and reflections from those times that will never be shared, although I could outside a comment format.
My heart goes out to all those I knew from those long days, and there are many.
Paz y amor a cada.
different clue
@KT Chong,
Sean Paul Kelly beat me to responding to your comment about China using more and more the North Sea Route being opened up by Arctic Ocean Ice melting away. But I will say anyway would I would have said.
Arctic Ocean ice meltoff is a sign of global warming on the march. Here is my unfolding scenario. The global warmers will warm the global enough to melt all the ice off of Greenland, Elsemere Island, Baffin Island, etc. This will allow the global warmers to dig for oil, gas, and coal all over Greenland, Elsemere Island and Baffin Island.
The further global warming will melt all the ice off of Antarctica. This will allow the global warmers to dig for coal, gas and oil all over Antarctica. The global warmers will use all that coal, gas and oil to move the earth towards condition Venus.
China will not escape the general heatup-burndown.
Mark Level
Response to Mago–
I learned “Zapo” for some reason, I have found that in Latin America the switch from Z to S is fairly often allowed. I appreciate your explanation of the science/ chemistry aspects of the difference. I have the Dale Pendell books on Plant Powers, a friend (who grew weed in NorCal) turned me on to them years ago . . . Glad the toad made it!! Nature has some awesome adaptations. Do you know Pendell’s “Pharmako–” series? I am guessing yes.
Recently I got a haircut and dye job here in Santa Fe & I told my stylist that when young my haircolor was cafe con una gota de leche, dark brown, and that was what I wanted. In the Central American Spanish I learnt (a legit British word, I had to defend a Kenyan fellow teacher to her students when she used it in the classroom . . . Anyway I pronounced gota as hota, it’s how I learned it, there is some tradition that makes it that way. The guys who worked in the shop giggled at my pronunciation, I guess not widely used in this area. When I stopped in a little town called Raton on the road here for lunch, I asked the waitress “Hay muchas ratones aqui?” She didn’t reply with the proper “Mande?” I always knew, used “Que?” instead. So inconsistent usages between New Mexico & Mexico Viejo . . . (She replied that there still are Ratones, and they come out in big numbers at night.)
I taught the last 22 years of my career in a district called San Lorenzo in NorCal, and the school was called Arroyo, and our lema was “Adelante, siempre adelante.” Our mascota (I might be using that wrong, it could mean house pet too) was un don de Espanya. But at games there was a bull, as well.
Listening to the guys the other day they used “buey” most often as a generic friend/ dude term. Our students in Norcal used the same term. Once I had an obnoxious Salvadoran student named Francisco Maravilla who was raised to be kind of “street.” I taught him ELL his sophomore and junior years, but met him Freshman year when he was outside my classroom and started talking about his “pito”, = whistle literally, “dick” metaphorically. I informed him that we don’t talk about our pitos in una escuela, & he said that it was part of “my culture” to cuss this way. I taught students later you can say whatever you want en la calle, but not in a classroom. I won over the Latino students with this point over a matter of years. Over time I won Francisco over with humor, I remember he recounted one really bad earthquake he’d been through and told me “Hubo escombras por todas partes!” Of course in this usage escombras meant rubble (something George Bush didn’t understand, after viewing his friend Trent Lott’s house on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, he said “There was rubbles everywhere! Maybe Trent entertained him with some old Flinstones episodes and he was thinking of Barney and Betty?) and not basura, trash . . .
Once I used “Vos” with a student instead of tu, he was shocked and said Mr. S—, you talk just like my grandpa!!
In later years kids were still using “pito”. My closest friend was a younger teacher, Mr. O, born within the community, but with minimal Spanish even though he did grow up on the street. Once the kids had written “pedo” on his whiteboard when I visited him after class, and I said, Brian what’s that, don’t think you want that on the board. He said oh, the kids meant “pito”, somehow less offensive.
The Mexiphobia in Texas is so extreme that they had a high school there that should have been named Arroyo, given history, but the Gringos changed the name to the ridiculous “Shallowater”!! Racist morons in my view.
Speaking of mota, a sympathetic Nica got me a small amount when I was picking. I smoked it and it gave me a dull headache, no buzz, but I appreciated the kindness anyway. For years I went summers to Puerto Angel where I had a fisherman friend who sometimes got me la mota, pretty decent, once some hongas too, very rough on my stomach, almost obviated the pleasant trip.
Speaking of sexual politics/ activities, there were some when we were picking. There was an attractive, petite brunette Canadian named Raquel who was on the team. My girlfriend had visited me once during the first few weeks I was there and she complemented me on my partner. So there was a younger guy, Fabiano, very handsome but not very bright who was obsessed with her. One time later when I was there he came and said he wanted to have a “personal” conversation with me, I was confused but said okay. He asked me if I was “with” Raquel and I said truthfully, no. He asked if I objected if he pursued her, implied I had a claim on her, I said I didn’t and didn’t care what he did in this specific case . . . I guess she might’ve used me as a shield. He never made any progress anyway, she was 4-5 years older than him and way out of his league in terms of sophistication.
As mentioned, I taught ELL, for the first 3 years I was on contract, used my Spanish daily. The Asian kids were sometimes annoyed and felt slighted, but I told them one foreign language was all I could handle. There was a Math Teacher at the school named Mr. Kelly who’d done missionary work in China with his wife, spoke fluently, so the Chinese kids at least had him. Later we got a Vietnamese-American teacher and a Korean-American, but somehow the school lacked Korean students. Lots of Vietnamese and Filipinos, though, and more Palestinian students than Jewish ones. Once I did the Unity prayer for the prophet with a Palestinian student aid, he was impressed. When I was involved with esoteric Masonry, we learned this in a specific context.
Anyway, my English credential and teaching experience taught me to be descriptive rather than prescriptive with language, which is constantly evolving, so apart from egregious mistakes, I think different & anomalous usages are mostly okay. Finnegan’s Wake remains a favorite book, you get some new takes with every reading.
I much appreciate your take though, I love etymology. When I learned that English Thesaurus is from Latinate Tesoro, a treasure, it blew my mind. Or the true etymologies of California, “Hot oven” (though Ltn. oven was orig. horno, not forno) and Arizona, dry place . . . Nevada, snowy. Etc. Somebody once claimed that Parabola and palabra are variants of the same word– might’ve been in the New Age Journal Parabola.
When I lived in New Orleans, there was a Baton Rouge Professor, Andrei Codrescu, who ran a great little literary journal called The Exquisite Corpse. They ran a piece called “Arena” about how the word “sand” is related to lumpy porridge, “farina”, anything granular across many cultures. I xeroxed this and shared it with many of my more scholarly friends.
In my not-so-humble opinion, anyone who is monolingual and has never lived in a different culture is culturally impoverished. Spanish and Portuguese remain my favorite languages, but honestly English works as a lingua franca when traveling, and not to have been able to read William Blake or some others in the original would’ve been miserable. Maybe in my next incarnation I will learn Czech, I hear it is awesome. As to music, Portuguese wins out over Spanish by kilometros, but perhaps Spanish poetry beats Portuguese? I hate the sound of most German, like Hebrew (which I know a bit, just for study of Kabalah) too many KHs, throat-clearing sounds. Nenas “99 Luftballoons” was very pretty, however, and I hear Schiller or Rilke in the original are awesome.
Wandered a long way away from Latin Amer. development I know, Mago, but you are a great sounding board/ rhetorical partner, and as the saying goes, sometimes the journey not the destination is what matters.
mago
Hello Mark Level and thanks for your comments and observations.
I have a full on schedule this weekend but hope to more fully respond when able.
Buey is the Mexican version of the Tico mae, while Mexicans suffer from a crudo when hungover while the Ticos have goma.
Like you I’m fascinated with entomology.
Más anon . . .
mago
Another thing before running out the door, both cultures use mano for brother. The Ticos also use compa as an expression of friendship.
Sean Paul Kelley
@Mago: you are fascinated with entomology, or etymology? Entomology is the study of insects, etymology is the study of word origins. I’m not a bug guy, but I love me some etymologies. I have a Chambers Thesaurus, widely considered the writer’s thesaurus and it is frequently cheeky, lovely and easy to get lost in all 10 lbs and 1200 pages of it.
mago
Ha ha. Etymology of course. I’m reminded of a story I once wrote about an entomologist who was into etymology, but never mind.
Sean Paul Kelley
@Mark Level: good lord, brother, that’s one hell of a story. With your kind of recall-memory, you should write a book about your experience.
I will probably leave the US for Nicaragua–it’s my only option at my age.
I only have one factual quibble to make: there were two presidents between Violetta and Ortega.
Thanks for making this post conversation awesome.
mago
Hello Mark Level, assuming you’re checking back in to this ancient thread. It’s amazing how most people have a gnat’s attention span and how the morning news is yesterday’s by the afternoon.
And the news of today will be the movies of tomorrow. That’s a line from the band Love’s album Forever Changes. Arthur Lee was a doomed genius.
Given that no one is going to read this I feel licensed to say anything. That’s a freedom of sorts in an increasingly restricted world.
As a chef in the northern Pacific Coast of Costa Rica I worked and interacted with many Nicas both professionally and personally, although never sexually, not that opportunities were lacking.
Nicas did the dirty work as maids, dishwashers and whatever positions were deemed beneath the dignity of their Tico overlords.
It’s the same everywhere you go. Moroccans in Spain, Mexicans in the States, Algerians in France. Nanny’s and fruit pickers, butt wipers and resentful ass kissers.
Andre Codresciu, yeah I remember him. Can’t recall where and how I ran into him, but always enjoyed his insights. I think he had a run at NPR before that went to shit.
Also linking somehow into Peter Coyote who’s outlived his time but was good in his prime as was Sam Shepard and Gary Snyder who I interviewed and who later denied me publication rights, but I digress.
I enjoy your insights and memories, especially when you go down those Latin roads.
Your takes on the state of the state are also appreciated.
Down in Santa Fe these days? A few hours from my zip code and I’m not going to travel there, but glad you’re in the neighborhood.
That’s it for now mano.
Ciao.
Sean Paul Kelley
@Mago: I read your comment, actually all in this post. And I appreciate your observations as well. I’d add to people who do the dirty work: the Malays in Singapore, the Dalits still, in India, although you actually never see them. I had to literally ask my Muslim hosts in Calicut/Kodhzekode in Kerala, to point them out and introduce them to me. My Hindhu friends absolutely refused. Calicut was one of the wildest experience of multiculuralism I have ever experienced. A the time I visited in 2009 Kerala was governed by the Communist Party in a coalition with a liberla party. The scandal of the day was that the Zamorin family’s persistent request for pensions was going to be granted by the Communists. The Zamorin family are the heriditary rulers of Calicut, but their rule ended in 1806. I mention all this for no reason. Just a digression. My Muslim friends, whom I met through the Agonist, invited me to visit Calicut when I arrived in India. I had Hindhu friends invite me to Mysore, which was one of the two highlights of my third trip to India. All were readers of the Agonist. But I digress. My Muslim friends were farmers. Hardly, they owned and operation three plantations: one for cardamom, one for tea and one for black pepper, i.e. our table pepper. They took me to visit two of the three: cardamom and tea. I am so totally enamored of cardamom I was tickled to see the plantations. But I could not help but recognize the extreme exploitation happeing before my eyes. I could not, in good conscience, say anything to my host. But I saw it. So it goes.
mago
Have to get back to you on cardomanm and curry and spice and everything nice another time,
But whatever the culture or place, authentic cuisine uses the same primordial ingredients of salty, sweet, sour and bitter to hit the high notes the Japanese define as umami.
All best to you down in that Texas town. . .