The eastern
half of Nicaragua, referred to as the Atlantic Coast, is a different
world from the western part of Nicaragua - culturally, linguistically,
racially. It is separated from the more populated Pacific Coast
area by mountains and has, historically, been inaccessible by
land. What roads existed were generally washed out for most of
the year. Generally people traveled to the Atlantic Coast by boat or
plane. We remember hearing Nicaraguans from the Pacific side joke
about needing a passport to travel to the Atlantic Coast.
In the 1600s the Pacific side of Nicaragua was colonized by Spain and
the Atlantic side by Great Britain. The British brought slaves
from Africa to work the plantations and the ancestors of those slaves
now are the majority population of the region. Because the
British didn't bring masses from Britain to live in Nicaragua, more of
the indigenous population survived, and for that reason the Atlantic
Coast is infinitely more culturally diverse than the rest of Nicaragua.
While Spanish is the language of the Pacific side, the Atlantic side is
multilingual. To us they spoke a soft, gentle English, pronouncing
the words meticulously and using expressions like "snap me a picture"
and "there was a sit-up last night" (a wake). Nearly everyone
also
speaks Spanish and the black people, among themselves, speak a dialect
they call Creole. To us it was incomprehensible and sounded like
a totally different language. Add to this the indigenous
language,
Misquito, which many also speak, as well as Garifano which some elders
still speak. A polyglot society, switching from language to
language
so naturally.
Historically, the people of the Atlantic coast have been at odds with
the majority of Nicaraguans who live on the Pacific side.
They call the people from the west "Spaniards" even though they are
mestizos (mixed race) just as most Latin Americans. Through out
the history of Nicaragua they have been treated as second-rate
citizens, their resources exploited by outsiders, and their lives
controlled by these same outsiders or politicians in Managua.
The Sandinistas, when they came into power, planned to do better.
They tried, but in every way - politically, militarily,
economically, - they made serious mistakes. Many of the young men
from the Atlantic coast joined the contra ranks, "went to the bush",
and, with U.S. support, fought against the
Sandinistas.
The agenda of these Atlantic Coast combatants was quite different than
that of the much larger U.S.-backed contras of the Pacific. What
the people of the Atlantic Coast wanted was independence or, at least,
some degree of sovereignty so they could reap the benefits of their own
resources, control their own lives, and have much more representation
in the political arena in Managua. Their struggle, however, was
co-opted by the larger contra war of the "Spaniards" and the goals of
Washington
which were to oust the Sandinistas and return Nicaragua to "free
market",
corporate capitalism with the same colonial dynamic that the country
had
under Somoza.
Only later in the 80s did the Sandinistas admit their mistakes and
initiate what turned out to be a very unique and revolutionary autonomy
process for the Coast. This was a positive step but too late and
since 1990, when the Sandinistas lost the election, there has been
little
progress in the autonomy process.
The pace on the Atlantic coast was mellow. People had time to
talk with us and make us feel at home. The children were polite
and respectful, greeting us with a smile and a "good day" when we
passed them on the paths. The seafood was delicious.
In Orinoco, a small village on Pearl Lagoon, we located Rosita
Davis Zenon whom Paul had photographed in 1985. Expecting to
find pro-contra politics, we were surprised that Rosita, as well as
most of Orinoco,
was sympathetic to the Sandinistas. She expressed the situation
in
these words. "And plenty boys from around here, was plenty in the
bush, and join the contras. I really didn't - up to yet, I can't
tell
you what was their objective of the contra inside the bush.
(But here in Orinoco) they understand the Frente (Sandinistas).
They tried to understand, what it is am I going to fight for in the
bush? Why am I going there into the bush? If it's to fight, it's
best to stay in the town on the best side to fight than to go in the
bush 'cause you will have someone to visit you and you know it would be
plenty different than to just be in the bush like that. They
decide to stay.
They decide to stay and, if they fight, rather to fight to defend the
old
people, the children and others than to go in the bush to fight against
the children and old people."
Rosita did arm herself during those contra war years and did help
defend her community from attack. She definitely doesn't want to
return to those years. She's now a primary school teacher making
a bit
less than $100 a month, struggling to feed her small family and
dreaming
of adding windows and doors to the small house she built. But she
seems exhausted and would like a "vacation" at some point, time
to
rest and heal.
The unemployment rate of the Atlantic coast is the highest in
Nicaragua, a country with overwhelming unemployment. As
Rosita explained, the only jobs in Orinoco are for teachers and nurses,
both of which
do not pay anywhere near a living wage. But every so often relief
comes in the form of a bag of white powder that washes up on the
shore. Suddenly, a few construction workers have work, a
windowless wooden shack is replaced by a small 2-story cement house,
and others benefit as the money filters through the community.
Cocaine, on its way from Colombia to the U.S., is sometimes dumped
into the ocean when DEA boats are in pursuit. Families take outings
from
the lagoon to the coast to walk the beaches and look for the packets
that
can give them the opportunity that their hard work does not
provide. Someone generally appears soon after the packets have
been found, some foreign man, perhaps from Colombia they say. The
going rate is $2,000 for a one kilogram packet.
This has had a noticeable impact on the economy but unfortunately
violence inevitably follows the drugs. Four people were recently
kill in a drug-related shootout in Bluefields. Also, people in
the transshipment countries between Colombia and the U.S. are becoming
consumers of the drugs.
Others find work by leaving their family for 8 months to a year to
work on the luxury cruise ships. At the end of their term they
generally return home for a month or two to be with their spouse and
children. Yes, these families have a better life, but at what
cost to the worker? Others work in the Cayman Islands, often as
domestics. They have to have these jobs lined up before the
arrive and generally have to pay a large fee to obtain the work and pay
for the transit. They can be away from their families for
years. And then, as on the Pacific coast, some go to Costa Rica
to find work. It's clear, those families that eat well, have
minimally secure and comfortable shelter, and can send their children
to high school generally have some sort of "out of the region" or drug
income.
We decided to leave Orinoco on the Friday morning boat since there
wouldn't be another boat until Monday and we had a Tuesday flight to
Managua. There we are, first on the wooden dock, a full hour before the
7 am departure as another 15 or so people gradually join us. We're not
worried, the boats hold 18 people or more. At last the boat pulls
in, already full from earlier stops! A few students get off,
making
room for a small percentage of us, not a pretty scene. At least
half are left on the dock, having to wait until Monday when the same
scene
will be repeated. We're reminded how life is difficult in
Nicaragua
in ways that we can't even imagine. If you don't have money, you
have to be incredibly creative to lead a somewhat healthy and sane
life.
Again and again the Nicaraguans amaze us!
After the Atlantic coast we made a lightning trip to Costa Rica
searching for three people who, along with perhaps a million
Nicaraguans, have
been forced to emigrate to that country in search for work. We
found 2 of the people and taped interesting testimonies, giving us some
insight into this important part of the Nicaraguan reality. One
family
is doing well, the other is hurting as much as they would be in
Nicaragua
and have plans to return. The one consistency in their experience
was
the shock they felt at how the Costa Ricans saw them as second class
citizens, much as what happens with people from Mexico in the U.S.
|
