NICARAGUA (Part 2)

Continued...

The kids. You had to be in Nicaragua no more than a few hours before you started falling in love with the kids. While many of the adults appeared indifferent, the kids were anything but. They all had beautiful round faces with big dark brown eyes and bigger smiles. They wanted to know you, where you were from; they all wanted to be held by you. Even the shy ones longed for your attention. I remember coming back from the ocean on my first day only to be greeted by about 6 boys and a little girl waiting at the front gate. These were the neighborhood kids. Turns out they were almost all related. The “primos” as I dubbed them. They all asked a thousand questions in Spanish. Laughing, pointing, and playing around.

Unlike my experience with American kids, Nicaraguan kids were much more independent. They wandered the streets, came in and out of the house, and looked out for each other. We spent evenings with 10 or so kids sprawled out on the tile floors, sharing a handful of colored pencils. Laughing, singing, and vying for our attention. While some got rough with each other, and they could be wound-up from time to time, they lacked the spoiled nature of a lot of kids I have been around. They had a contentment I was not use to experiencing. And, they loved. I felt immediately loved and accepted by these little people.

Fernando. The oldest of the kids was Fernando. It was love at first sight. He was the natural born leader of the group. He had one of the most handsome little faces with big dimples, a crooked smile, and an intelligence in his eyes that proceeded his years. He was small for eleven years, but most Nicaraguans were smaller than me. He had compassionate soul even though he had faced a lot of hardship at his tender age. He was special. I pray for that boy on a daily basis. People will look to him for guidance as they get older. He is at a crossroads. He will either be a great man of God or do a lot of evil. I can’t help but see God’s hand in that boy’s life. I immediately wanted to love him, to take care of him, to raise him, and to just hold him in my arms and take away all the hurt he had faced. Oh, but how much more does our God love him!

Fernando was a revelation for me. I always knew that one day I would want to adopt kids but had no idea how I could pick one when so many needed to be loved and cared for. I was made aware of how possible it was. I also realized in a heartbeat, I could give up all of my “freedoms” as a single person to make a better life for someone else.

Transportation. If going anywhere nearby, you walk. We walked all over the city, to the barrio, out to Orlando’s farm. If we wanted to go to another city, we hopped into an old van filled with people and paid about 5 cents. If you like your personal space, you will not survive. The van was crammed with people. Then, we rumbled off to the next destination, the person who collected money hanging out the window shouting our destination to anyone we passed, hoping to get a few more passengers. If we were going anywhere far away, we took the bus. Normally, it was an old school bus with painted images of saints and the Virgin Mary over the front dash. The bus didn’t leave until it was full. And, not just every seat full, but every molecule of space. Roofing materials, tires, shopping bags, pets, and people were crammed in. Three to a seat and standing room was taken. You couldn’t fall over and we bounced and fast speeds down the Pan American. The breeze blew through the open windows cooling us all down. Amazingly, there was no smell of humanity. Nicaraguans are very conscious of their personal hygiene. The bus mostly smelled of blooming plants from outside, car exhaust, and cologne.

At every stop, vendors somehow found a way to walk up and down the aisles, shouting out their goods, and selling to the passengers. How they maneuvered around people, I’m not sure but it worked.


My favorite part of the rides were when all of the school children packed onto the bus. They all were wearing their white collared shirts; blue slacks or skirts and carried their packs. They laughed and pushed. They made eye contact and smiled. Then they would reach their stop, and run off down a muddy side road or chase a soccer ball. I was amazed at how clean they always looked when the red dirt of the roads were muddy and rutted.