Nicaraguan Manicure

Midafternoon Tuesday when I return to the Hernandez guesthouse, Sondra is waiting on the porch, manicure equipment at her side.

Last week, when I saw her doing a manicure and pedicure on the veranda for our hostess Leda, I learned Sondra provides her services at clients' homes. I told Leda I might be have time for one on Tuesday.

My Tuesday has filled with work, and the word  “might” must have disappeared translation.

I run up the wooden stairs and trade my jeans for capris while Sondra heats water in the kitchen.

Manicure underway, we learn each other’s languages. Hands- manos. Feet -pies.  Nails-ongos. Fingers and toes share a Spanish name—dedos.

I tell her about three sons, one recently married.

“Una hermosa boda?”  she asks. [A beautiful wedding?]

“Si.  Una boda Christiana,” I answer.

She smiles. A bond.

She tells me she has one son who is indoors. He’s using his cousins’ computer. She is Leda’s sister-in-law (cuñeada).

How did she travel to this guest house today?

Con autobus.

While we chat she works, but not with North American efficiency. Ninety minutes later, mis pies y mis manos  have undergone the most thorough grooming in their history.

I confirm the price Leda has told me. Cuesta siete (seven) dollares?

She hesitates. No, cinco, [five], she says.

An hour ago, Eric Loftsgard told me of Nicaraguan dependency that results from handouts. I debate, then I decide: This is no handout. It is pay for work done well.

I say that five is not enough: “Cinco no esta sufficiente.”

 I pay ten.

 “Dios te bendige,” she says. [God bless you]

He already has.