Last week was Nicaragua Independence Day (there are actually two days celebrated, the 14th and the 15th), and since there was no work, I decided to take advantage of the opportunity and head out of the city for a few days. My friend Jaime is from the Northern region of Matagalpa, one of Nicaragua’s biggest-and poorest-departments. He’d been inviting me to come visit his community for several months now, so my JV community mate Thomas and I decided to take him up on the offer and head up there for a few days. It ended up being an eye-opening and unforgettable trip for me; I’ll try and share a few of the highlights.
Jaime is one of 14 children! I thought my dad came from a big family but this was something else…especially because while we were there visiting, 13 of the kids were home, plus the parents, plus both of us guests! That made for a crowded house. And to make things even more interesting, Jaime’s family lives in a tiny house, effectively three rooms with an attached kitchen. Their hospitality was practically embarrassing, especially when they insisted on each of us using a bed-where all those kids ended up beats me!
I have to back up though and fill you in on our arrival in style. We had traveled most of the day Saturday and met up with Jaime in the city of Matagalpa. From there we took another bus several hours deeper into the mountains. We got off several hours later at the end of the bus line, long after dark and with a light drizzle coming down. Jaime mentioned that there was a “small river” that we would have to cross to get to his house. We were all for the adventure though, so we pulled out our flashlights and stumbled down the muddy path following our trusted guide. As we neared the bottom, I began to hear what sounded like quite a formidable river, and when we got to the bank I shined my headlamp out to see it was not the little creek Jaime made it out to be! No, this baby was at least a good twenty yards across, nearly the size of the Hood River (for those of you who can imagine that). I just stopped in shock and started wondering if this was really safe. Wasn’t there another way to get to his house? Apparently not.
I hiked up my shorts and backup, took my shoes off and followed Jaime into the dark waters. It ended up coming up to my hips and there was no real danger, but with the rain, in the dark, and never having seen the place before, it was a bit of an adrenaline rush. We came onto a small sandbar on the far side where Jaime’s mom had come down to meet us. After introductions, we stumbled up another muddy path in the dark before finally arriving to the small house.
We were getting a true taste of the campo lifestyle; Jaime’s family does have electricity (and the main form of entertainment after the sun goes down is the television which is also used as a stereo), but there’s no running water. Since their farm is next to the river though, bathing is easily down at the water’s edge. We spent a good part of the first day we were there messing around in a small swimming hole downstream from the house with Jaime and his siblings.
Throughout the several days of visiting, one of the most notable experiences for me was seeing the process of where food comes from and how it’s prepared in the campo. Nearly everything I ate during my visit was produced on the several acres Jaime’s family lived on. There’s a popular folk song here in Nicaragua called “Hijos del Maiz” (Children of the Corn); never has it seemed more appropriate to me. Traditional Nicaraguan food is often corn based, and a good part of the day revolves around harvesting, cooking, or eating corn in one form or another. I was fascinated by seeing the process from corn drying on the cobs all the way to tortilla on my plate. In between, I helped peel the corn kernels from the cob, watched as a giant cauldron of kernels were boiled, ground the cooked kernels into maza and finally watched as the maza was pounded out into round tortillas and cooked over the open wood fire.
As Jesuit Volunteers, one of our core values is to live a life of simplicity. I do think with relation to how the dominant U.S. culture tells us we should live, we live a pretty simple life. A few days in the campo though was an eye-opening reminder of how simply millions of the rural poor live around the world. With little more than the basic necessities of food, water, shelter and love, campesinos find a way to get by day to day, harvest to harvest. Needless to say, I’m looking forward to the next opportunity I get to visit Jaime and family again.
