Life in the Village


Today I have been here two weeks, and I am beginning to adjust to the temperature and life in general here in Nicaragua. When you come from Europe, it is necessary to change something in your head, like changing the chip of the telephone. You have to think differently.
Life in general is peaceful and “tranquilo”. Everybody goes about with their routine in a matter of fact manner and it happens whether there are foreigners present or not.

I will explain. I live in a small fishing village on the coast of the Pacific in Nicaragua. If you look at the map you will see my village close to a city called León. We have a fabulous road from the city out here that was built just one year ago. There are about 2000 people living in this area, and some are foreigners, but the majority is descendents from indigenous people, los sutiava. The traditional income here is fishing, and selling wood. The few tourists that come here meet a life that still is more or less the same that it has been for centuries. They cook on open fire. A lot do not know how to cook with gas. It is almost like the old captains of the sailing ships. When they started to work with engines they turned off the engine when entering a port and put up sail, because this was easier for them. It is a bit like this here too. I would not have any idea how to cook on open fire, but a lot of people here feel the opposite. They feel it is easier to cook on open fire, because that is what they are used to.

However, you see changes here as well. Travelling salesmen are frequent in the village. You can buy almost anything from them and you see them everywhere. And people buy from them. Yesterday afternoon I was sitting with an old woman in front of her house watching the time go by.  (People do that here.) And during this two hour time, several merchants passed. On was selling plastic bags for ice and food sold in the street, napkins, plastic glasses and plates, well almost anything you could think of in plastic. His vehicle was so loaded that when he stopped and was finding the things the woman wanted, it almost fell over. So what was his vehicle? It was a motorcycle. And this is how they travel those merchants. They sell everything, from bread to fresh milk from this medium of transport. And nothing is strange about it. I guess that the only thing that has changed is the medium of transport. Before they used horse and carriage, and the motorbike is the modern version.

So my afternoon was kept busy watching all these salesmen offering their merchandize to the people in the village.

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