Seeing the Light

Laguna de Apollo from above

Today, Spanish class has moved to the rocky beach at Laguna de Apollo. Yesterday we saw its grand vista from above. Today, we see it at lagoon level.

Through a rain forest with butterflies, monkeys, bougainvillea—along with beehives and termite nests, we have hiked on a smooth road of pavers, recently created by Daniel Ortega’s government, prior to the general election.

Laguna de Apollo at lake level

We are seated in a ranchon (thatch-roofed open-air shelter). A couple cuddles in a hammock to our left. Four men, their red lipstick and rouge visible from a distance, splash together in the water. Two families lounge on the beach to our right.

Ranchon light fixture

We pull out our sack lunches. As I fork tuna on my saltine, I see the light above—a light bulb suspended on wires in the top half a 3-liter bottle, similar to the bottle of Coke we have ordered with lunch.

I munch my crackers, drink Coke, and consider: How many ways is it possible to see this Nicaraguan light?

• Middle-class: How sad—they can’t afford a real light fixture!
• OSHA: That would never pass code!
• Queen of Clean: You can hardly see through it for the fly specks!
• Aesthetic: That is the ugliest light fixture I have ever seen!
• Environmentalist: What good way to recycle!
• Admiring: What a creative idea!
• Functional: It does protect the bulb from breakage.

Which shall I choose?

[Note to readers: Please pause here a moment. Before reading further, you might want to choose a response, or perhaps create your own. And I’d love it if you add to my list! How might you respond to this photo?]

As I pack away my tuna tin, I consider my options. Then caffeine lights my brain. Why do I have to choose? Why do I need to  judge? I don’t.

It simply is, and in this moment that can be bastante (enough).

I am left, though, with one unanswered question.

How many Nicaraguans does it take to change a light bulb?