On the subject of chickens, and the art of not letting go

I’m always out of words when it comes to how to describe my experiences.  Nicaragua is beautiful, very green and lush and full of bright colors in everything imaginable.  Houses, buses, people; everything is a random combobulation of color and type and style.  The streets are interesting not only because of the bright buses everywhere, but also because of the vendors and window washers dressed up like clowns and fire-jugglers in the middle of the street that make every car trip feel like a legit adventure. Yes, People actually juggle fire. In the middle of the street. Also adding to the rainbow is the abundance of murals and graffiti here.  A lot of them are political, but some are just whatever people want to draw. I stumbled on some very inspiring ones in the city of Esteli.

I recently spent a week away from the craziness of Managua, in a small coffee-farming community.  It was  a really nice change of pace and a jolting change of perspective on what Nicaragua is like.  This was not a noisy city but a mountain community that was very environmentally aware, but also plagued by alcoholism and lack of clean water.  But in every aspect it is pretty much 100 % different from Managua. Everyone knows everyone, everyone farms, there isnt much crime except for drunk guys stealing chickens for booze money. Apparently they are coordinated enough to steal chickens, paint them a different color, and then sell them for money……. I got pretty good at catching the chickens( not stealing them!), to the amusement of my other-wise quiet hosts.

Only one person in the family understood my Spanish, which was ok, because that just meant I got to be good friends with that one sister.  we made tortillas together and also went on some corn harvesting excursions.  Our little cousins tagged along and proved a lot stronger than I was when it came to carrying large sacks of corn up and down steep cliffs. Forming relationships with people when you do not fluently speak the language is always challenging, but somehow in the beauty of them sharing a piece of their life with me that was ok.  Relationships between people of different cultures can be confounding, but they can also be beautiful.  And in when we shared in moments of simple humanity we managed to cross those lines.  We had a lot of those moments, since the days were full of tasks that could be shared. All in all,it was a surpising realization for me that it will be hard to let go of the people here. And perhaps in letting go is not what needs to be done(we are too good at that as Americans) , perhaps it is better to hold on.  Its hard because life is fast where we are from, we are independent and we hold on to the useful and let go of what we consider past experiences.  But I dont think that it has to be that way…..so I am dedicating a part of my time this year to the art of holding on to those friendships… to people who were so kind and care so much.  It will be against my natural tendencies, but I think it’s a change for the better.