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Sunday, October 30, 2011

Now That Was Interesting! OR - how NOT to get to Esteli and back!

Learning Spanish
If you have been reading any of these, you will realize that this is part travelogue, and part idea exploration from this trip to Nicaragua.  I came here in early Oct., and I won't be home until Dec. 10.  Part of the purpose was to improve my Spanish - thank you very much Ms. Nubia Rodriguez of Esteli and the Escuela Horizantal run by Ms. Egdelena Lanuza of Esteli.  Excellent job, always warm and gracious - thank you very much.  If you are interested in an intensive course in Spanish for a very reasonable price - check them out:  http://www.escuelahorizonte.edu.ni/

My old friend Ned - in both senses of "old" - was there for two weeks, and I joined him for the last one. We stayed with Mama Licha as always.  It actually does feel like coming home!  Mama Licha, Nora, Manuel, Fernando, Norman - good greetings as always!  I know you and your children are all on Facebook - and you have become quite the expert at the Internet!

I can actually carry on a conversation in Spanish at this point - assuming it is about some area I know!!  I make some dumb mistakes - some of them all the time - and I ask my Spanish speaking friends to help me out on that - thank you, thank you very much.

Ned is on his way home to California as we chat here, and then back to Africa to a new settlement - new for him.  He has been in Africa for 47 years!  We both had an interesting time getting to Esteli - and an interesting time getting back to Managua.  So this entry is primarily a travelogue!  If that excites you - super.  If not, turn to the next one, which will be a bit more reflective on the travelogue - or we'll see what happens here!!  I AM making this up as I go, you know.

The Bus To Esteli
Ned was accompanied on the express bus from Managua to Esteli by one of the staff here.  And it was a good thing, too.  I was accompanied to the bus station, and I got on the express bus that goes through Esteli to some other town!  My ticket said so!  Of course, I didn't look at the ticket.  Three hours later, we are pulling into Esteli.  I am assuming that we will stop at the bus station or something, and most people will get off.  Well, I start looking for familiar things, and the bus stops a couple of times, and suddenly I realize we are back in the countryside!  I ask the guy near me if that was Esteli - he says, SI!  So I get up and accost the conductor.  They stop the bus about 3 miles out of town, and I get off!  NOW WHAT?!

I walk across the road, and there are a couple of young girls there - I ask them if they are waiting for a bus - they reply, SI!  I ask them how much - I think they said 5 or 7 Cordoba - something like that.  A cab pulls up - virtually EVERY cab that passes will honk their horn at a chele - a white face - hoping for a fare.  So I lean in his window, and in my BEST Spanish, ask if he knows Mama Licha.  I had not written down the directions - which are basically "two and a half blocks east of Briomol" - that last word is a tad hard to get out with R and B and all that in there.  There is no one else in the cab, by the way.  He doesn't know her, but I think I know the way - so I say - "how much to the center of Esteli."  He says "quinze" (15).  My brain does not do numbers very well - I think $15 dollars! I think this came from some remnant memory of a cab driver in Tanzania once asking for $60 for a fare that should have cost $3.  I say - "impossible" as a reaction - and he drives off.  And I am standing there thinking - you idiot - that's like 75 cents!  What were you thinking?

So I stand there in the sun a bit longer, and another taxi - this one with the driver and 3 other people in it - stops.  I ask how much, he says "quinze".  I say - super, and get in with my two bags, apologizing to the two women in the back seat.  I ask about Mama Licha - he does not know her.  I manage a few words about "casa maderna", which he does know - which is in fact a totally different place!  And off we go. As he turns onto the street for his first fare - I recognize Mama Licha's house - and say STOP - in English, no less!  So, I made it.  Warm embraces, food on the stove, and they had just been calling Elena to make sure I was not lost on the way!!

The Taxi to Managua or thereabouts
Fast forward a week - lots of things in that week, by the way - and Ned and I are debating how to get back to Managua.  We can take the bus - I think the fare is 70 - or like $3.50.  I mention to Ned that Bob Walz and I had once taken a cab from AKF to Esteli - for $100!  - he says - let's go for it, I'll pay half.  He found the 3 hour bus ride in an old school bus with his bag on his lap pretty confining - and damned near disabling.  Elena had also alerted us to make sure we get off the bus at the airport, and not at the bus station - too many unsavory characters there that might try to take advantage of a couple of cheles.  So I go talk to Egdelena at the school - her son runs a taxi service.  She calls him on the phone - he agrees to $85 - and I am thinking - heck of a deal!  She calls again on Saturday morning, just before we leave, announcing that he now realizes that he has to go a lot further to get to AKF - and he probably also remembers that we paid $100 last time - so he raises the fare to $100.  FINE!  My other option was to go out in the street and negotiate with someone else at this point - not a likely outcome.  Pretty clever, I am thinking.

Well, Ned and I and our bags get into the taxi - with a couple of bananas, cakes, and good-by presents from Mama Licha and Nora - and a bunch of hugs and kisses. I like this part of life here for sure!!  It's a little Chevy, 2007 - pretty nice.  Sounds good, runs good.  I couldn't get the seat belt on because the buckle part appears to be underneath the rear seat.  The owner assures me that we don't need them in Nicaragua.  We always drive safely and slowly.  I assume him that I am more worried about the other drivers than his driver - we does seem to be wearing his seat belt.  Then we go gliding down the mountain from Esteli, exceeding the speed limit, generally in neutral, cruising along.

The Party Campaign Caravan
We pass through some towns where everyone is waiting for THE caravan!  Elections here are preceded by long caravans of supporters who come into Managua from everywhere - all the way from the border - to cheer for their candidate.  The election is next Sunday- I'll do some more on that later - and you think WE have political problems!!  Mamma Mia!  (I also teach a bit of Italian to everyone as I go - I seem to think in it here!  Va Bene!)

A Minor Problem - 10 minutes max
Well, we are 2 and one half hours into this or so, when we quietly coast to the side of the road.  The driver and owner are checking the gas - did I mention that taxis frequently have 2 people running them? They don't seem to trust each other or the passengers!  We have plenty of gas, it seems.  The hood comes up - he assures us, it will just take a minute.  They fiddle with this and that, look at the battery connections and the fuses, etc.  And I am thinking - it was JUST running fine - there is NO WAY the battery or the fuses could have caused this.  They try to start it again - it won't turn over.  The solenoid clicks, then nothing.  We decide to push it to start - nothing.  Backward, forward - zip. BUT now the starter does crank the engine!  There appears to be a bad spot on the starter cog!  So they crank away at it, flood it, and it starts with a roaring and belching of smoke - flooded of course - and then it dies with a wierd clicking noise!  Nothing after that.

A bit more poking around, and the owner flags down a little pickup - gets out a rope (he HAS done this before) and ties it to the back of the pickup and front of the car. A family of four walking to the next town comes by, and they also get in the pickup - and off we go.  The pickup driver is making a few Cordoba here.  A couple of miles to the next place, where I see a large gas station!  AMEN. Salvation.  It is pretty hot out there in the sun!  This is actually the turn to go to Teustepe - which I recognize.

Well, we do not go the gas station, but to a little abandoned house on the side of the road, and into the back yard, where there is actually a fairly well equipped tool box!  There is also a small squadron of people who descend on this vehicle to determine what exactly is wrong!  The oldest guy - about 50 - seems to own the tools, and seems to have some idea of what to do - but the repairs are definitely a committee affair.  I had called Elena from the stop on the road, but the owner did NOT want to disturb her, and wanted to assure her it would be fixed in a minute, etc., etc.  Ned tells me that he has lots of experience being stranded in the bush when his car broke down in Africa.  And WHY don't we train all missionaries on basic auto mechanics?  Or all taxi owners in Nicaragua?!

After 20 minutes or so of repair discussions, and miles of caravan going by us on the road to Managua - I call Elena and tell her that we will likely be here quite a while. So she heads out to pick us up!  Meanwhile the repair committee gets a new fuel filter - a somewhat rational approach - except that the car was totally flooded the last time it ran - but, then there are problems connecting it, etc., etc.  We left the owner there quite disappointed with our lack of patience and understanding.  I truly hope he got home that night.

We finally head into town, but now we are literally in the middle of several thousand trucks, cars, buses, and every other conceivable vehicle flying flags of the 13th party. And they happen to run into or across the path of a similar caravan from the 1st party!  That little traffic jam - sometimes called "gridlock" - lasts about two hours!!  The numbers of the parties come from their positions on the ballot  The FLSN, or Sandinistas secured #2, because you make the sign 2 with a V for victory  They explained to me how the other party got fixed in position #13 -but it's a long story!!  But you CAN make a sign for 13 with one hand!  In Italy, it could be mistaken for a slightly different gesture!

Mamma Mia!  But we survived.  More later on the conversation between the African missionary and the Nicaraguan activist, or community educator, or revolutionary, or  . . . It generated a lot of ideas.

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