A little retrospective is in order before I begin to forget things.  What about Nicaragua strikes me most fervently?  The economy.

Before I begin, I think it’s necessary to disclaim everything following: I’m an observer, and I don’t have the wherewithal to do any hard research.  By observer, however, I mean a guy who spent two weeks talking to people.  And by talking to people I mean that I was a teacher who set residents and natives of Nicaragua into groups to solve problems ad hoc, ones they themselves observed.  Two most pressing problems came to the fore: the first being unemployment and underemployment, the second being sexual abuse.

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A pleasant and cool morning in Chinandega found Nachmu feeling quite well, well enough to talk about gallo pinto.  Gallo pinto is the staple here, red beans and rice, the beans giving the rice its color and the dish its name: “painted rooster.”  One eats gallo pinto at every meal.  It’s about as exciting as grits. Continue reading →

Well, Nachmu got sick.  Actually, I arrived sick.  I went to a nurse practitioner for my travel immunizations, where I told her I thought I had a pretty good little sinus infection cooking.  She said something like this: “Ah, no worries!”  And sent me on my way.

It’s my fault; really, it is.  I know my body better than this, and I should have high-tailed it to my doctor for the good stuff.  Since I did not, I have basically been sleeping since day 2, trying to shake a horrible sinus infection.  And I have!

I do remember this from Day 2: una huelga: a strike.  Traffic was stopped all over Nicaragua for the entire morning while the military made demands to be given property (at least that’s how I understood it; I am not an authoritative source).  I do not know what became of it, but it was interesting, to say the least.

Here’s a picture I took while walking because of the strike.

Second of all, there’s a guy here named Ron.  I’m sure it’s short for Ronaldo or something like that, but you have to know that, here in Nicaragua, Ron is a very popular dude.  Ron Flor de Cana is his name, which I think translates quite beautifully as “Flower of the Cane.”

At any rate, Ron makes a delicious little drink that he packages and sells in all sorts of colors and sizes; some come with the number “7″ stenciled on them, some “4,” and others “3.”  I’m sure there must be a “1,” “2,” 5,” and perhaps a “9.”  I mean, what product line would be complete without a number 9?  I’m enjoying his product right now.  I love Nicaragua.

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That’s the title of my newly-commenced masterpiece, an answer to Heidegger.  Where did the time go?  Well, Nachmu was waylaid by a fierce bacteria, thanks to Nachmu the Elder, who was up and about only two days after he was made ill.  Me?  Two weeks.  Two weeks of miserable pain and fatigue.

Of course, being a father, husband, business-owner, contractor, etc., the work remained while I was miserable, and after two more weeks, I think I have caught up.

I could not have caught up without the love and tenderness of Mrs. Nachmu, who used to wear the moniker “Deb the Merciless,” but was, this time, tender and merciful.  Thanks, dear wife!

Ah, friends, we’ve been inculcated for over four years now, maybe more. I can’t remember.  It seems like an eternity.  Here’s what Nachmu has learned.

Violin

The violin is the most expressive of the stringed instruments, no doubt about it.  Loud, boisterous, quiet, moody, joyful: the violin does it all.  The violin must be heard and will not be ignored. As such, the violin can be quite nasty, unlikeable, at times, like a spoiled child who cannot share playthings of nominal value.  Whenever the violin is properly tempered, however, its beauty soars.

Cello

The violincello expresses the most emotions of all the stringed instruments.  When the cello feels slighted by the violin, it might indignantly remind the violin that the cello has far more expressive range, starting low with a stormy rumble, working into a angry froth in the middle, finally reaching the range of the violin, striking lightning at its extreme.  This makes the cello quite the moody instrument, rarely happy, mostly melancholy, sometimes angry, but at all times, beautiful.  The cello is never unlikeable.

Viola

The viola expresses the least range of the stringed instruments.  At first glance, this might make the viola a secondary instrument, but it is a false impression.  The viola is neither moody nor easily cajoled.  Its expression is even, reliable, hopeful.  I saw a young woman, a wallflower, play her viola, coaxing out of it all of its mellow beauty, and then she was heckled, in a friendly way.  She shot a glance at the heckler that no wallflower could, expressing a flaming passion that is not tamed.  No, this wallflower is beautiful, but her beauty must be unlocked.  Who has the key to her beauty?  Likewise the viola: emotional depths difficult to plumb, a long-burning hot fire difficult to feel.

Guitar

The classical guitar is a misfit, a colorful character who does not fit in at court.  All the other instruments condescend, but they know they must have the guitar in their midst.  After all, with all the swinging moods and coursing emotions, we need the guitar to keep ourselves well-grounded.  What better way to see ourselves than with the outsider commenting, like a jester in the King’s court?  And when the guitar comments, its own emotions are unleashed, racing with urgent expression, putting in awe all the courtiers.  The guitar can do that?  Who knew? I would like to hear that again!

Piano

The piano is a complicated character who rarely participates with any heart at all.  The piano is bored, yet satisfied with the banal task of supporting the other instruments, particularly the violin, who, above the others, needs the security of a bored parent.  Every now and again, the piano deigns to open up its character, showing us the mystery of the instrument, causing us to listen in discovery, as we experience the interplay within the many elements of the piano.  The piano is overwhelming, and it knows so; therefore, the piano speaks only limited pieces, then is again removed from the foreground.

Dear Doritos,

My wife and I love your Cool Ranch brand Doritos corn chip product.  We often share a bag together.  I, personally, also love the original Nacho Cheese brand Doritos corn chip product.  Mrs. Nachmu hates Nacho Cheese.  I often eat a bag of it by myself.

Would you be so kind as to produce a “Cool Ranch Nacho Cheese” brand Doritos corn chip product?

Thanks,

Nachmu.

Nachmu the Younger and I were walking the street in the cool of the day, enjoying each other, I the father and he the image of his father, when Nachmu the Younger picked up a stick which had been fashioned, lo and behold, with a trigger mechanism.

At each tree, he paused, made a clicking sound, “chk-chk,” and pulled the trigger.  I thought he was shooting the trees with a gun, so, to verify, I asked him, “What are you doing?” He responded, “I’m lighting each tree on fire!” He was delighted in himself.  The stick was not a gun, you see, it was a butane lighter, the kind one uses to light candles or a charcoal fire.

“Well, great,” I thought to myself, “How much is this going to cost me?”

A moment later, he added, “Each night, we light the trees on fire, and then, in the morning, we come back and put them out. They’re very bright.”

Ah, so the rest of the questions forming themselves rested, namely: “How am I going to make time for all the counseling sessions? How did my five-year old become a pyromaniac? Was it the Fourth of July firecrackers we played with?” Nope, instead, it was a child delighted in himself that he was imagining the neighborhood lit with a hundred giant tree-candles, no more dark to be afraid of ever again.

Reader "L" sends this photo to illustrate.

Nachmu’s shoulder is hurt, very hurt, like the kind of hurt that keeps me from playing ball with the Nachmu Boys, keeps me from reaching for my beer (which I need to fetch right now, by the way; brb) in its traditional location (I am LCMS Lutheran, after all), and keeps me from sleeping at night.  And during the day.  I hurt it over time, I think, abusing my body with stress and lack of care, and finally broke something this February jerking some heavy planks of teak in the back of the Nachmu pickup truck. Usually after I abuse my body, it heals.  This time it did not.  So I complained to my doctor.

He sent me to an orthopedic surgeon, who, upon examining my shoulder, declared that I had probably torn my rotator cuff, or something to that effect.  Since that was his suspicion, he ordered me to have an MRI.  He had just indelicately wrenched my shoulder into all sorts of evil angles so that I was listening to him as a master, and I obeyed. Continue reading →

As is our tradition, the Nachmu family headed out from Nachmu HQ late on Friday afternoon to enjoy a fairly good county fair.  It’s comparable to the unbeatable Illinois State Fair, which I attended for many years, even though I was a resident of central Illinois for 2 and one-half years.  Comparable, I say, in delight, though not in scale.

4-H exhibits anchor the fair, especially on Friday evening, and the 4-H community is particularly strong here, especially in the agricultural emphases, but not at the expense of research and technological emphases.  The highlight of the entire agricultural year, for Nachmu at least, is the 4-H livestock auction, which has been the central feature of Friday evening for at least 20 years now.  The auction brings top-dollar to very worthy young people and to their program.  Every year, I go to bid on an animal, a lamb or a goat, but every year, the prices are far too high.  That’s a good thing, when one considers the program itself.

Here are some photos to enjoy; just click on the image to get the next one…

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