Chinandega Then and Now

Marlo gets a Chinandega haircut

Nine days ago we arrived in a strange city: Chinandega.

That first day, when we walked the five blocks to Parque Central, heads turned. We wondered if it was our white skin or our unusual height. Probably both.

Some Chinandegans stared; others cast shy glances, then looked away. A few beggars held out their hands, their faces carefully sad, and talked of the need for food or for an insulin injection for a diabetic child. The rest of the people lining the sidewalk—tending their shops or visiting with friends—were politely silent.

But each day, as we walked the route and stopped for lunch or bought ice cream, bridges began. The waiter at TipTop—each day the same man, Emilio—asked why we were here and we explained.

The barber who cut Marlo’s hair took his photo in the barber chair (we think that Marlo was his first gringo customer). And then every day we passed his shop, he waved and smiled and said, “Hola, amigos.”  We waved and smiled back.

The women in the Eskimo ice cream shop taught us the names of flavors—and I think we tried them all. Our favorite: rom con pases (rum with raisins).

A man in a doorway stopped us with, “Hello! I speak English.” He told us he lived in Miami 30 years, working as a pilot and recently retired to Nicaragua.  “It is my home,” he said.

He offered to drive us anywhere we needed to go in his pickup. We thanked him, but although we saw him several times thereafter, we never took him up on his offer. (We don’t know the culture well enough to know if his offer was serious. Besides, taxi rides are cheap.)

Along the sidewalk these nine days, we have become familiar figures. The vendors on our daily route now smile and say, “Hola.”

Yesterday, we told Emilio and the ice cream vendors it was our last day. And, for the first time, Marlo put a coin in a beggar’s outstretched hand.

Today, as we leave for the Managua and the Nehemiah Center, Chinandega is no longer strange. We are with friends: chief among them are our hosts at the hotel, Don Mario and Doña Iliana.

So, as we leave, we don’t say “Adios” (Goodbye).

We want to see our Chinandega friends again.

So, instead, we say, “Hasta luego” (Until next time).

----

PS: That ending rang with too much of a conclusion. 

Be forewarned: there are still six days in this year’s Nicaragua journey—six days in Managua at the Nehemiah Center.

Stay tuned!