At the center of town there were markets with merchants who yelled as we passed by, trying to entice us to stop at their tables. There was an old cathedral with two lions carved out of stone gaurding the tomb of Nicaragua's beloved poet, Ruban Dario. There were murals on the sides of buildings depicting the country's history of revolution and upheaval. In one, a snake labeled "CIA" is biting a hand reaching for a ballot box. In another, Sandino is standing tall with one foot resting on the head of Uncle Sam. While viewing a series of murals I was accosted by an over-eager tour guide who insisted on giving me her interpretation of the artwork. I tried to tell her I didn't understand Spanish, but I ended up giving her some cordobas for her enthusiasm and persistance.
As Tim ate a cheeseburger he bought from a vender, I walked into a nearby Catholic church. Taking in the scent of votive candles and listening to the echo of my footsteps, I looked around. On the other side of the church I noticed an unusal display. Dozens of ceremic houses were hanging on a wall, each painted in bright colors. When I walked closer I noticed there were names written on each house - a reminder to pray for each family in the church, I thought. And on one house, "the people of New Orleans" - a reminder that the human family has no borders.
I walked out. As Tim was finishing his burger a boy approached him asking for money. Tim paused. The kid pointed at his burger. Tim held out the remaining half of his burger and the kid eagerly took it and split it with a friend across the street. "It broke my heart to see a child so thankful for a half-eaten burger," Tim said. While we offer our leftovers to Nicaragua, Nicaragua offers us it's prayers.
Later we visited the site of an old church bombed out by the besieged Somoza government during the revolution. It was only a week since Christmas and there was a painted plywood nativity scene set up in the remains of the structure. On top of the former alter was the holy family. In the grassy former nave there were depictions of peasants walking in from the fields carrying gifts of corn and coffee.
We attempted to find a number of museums the guidebooks recommended...there was so much to see in Leon and we only had an afternoon. The museum dedicated to the city's famous poet, Ruban Dario, was closed for lunch. The Museum of Traditions and Legends (located in an infamous prison) was closed for the day, but we snooped around the front yard to look at some scultures. We finally found a museum that was open - the Casa de Culturo. This museum housed a collection of art and offered spanish lessons. There was a musician struming a guitar in a courtyard. ... bought a great cd (find a way to post on blog?)...
travel back to managua...meeting the group....we arrived late...they saved us dinner...real fruit juice...mmm
That night Jim introduced himself and shared some thoughts on the trip. We introduced ourselves. The Equal Exchange people introduced themselves and the fair trade concept. We talked about what we hoped to get out of the trip. Questions, etc. --- As pastor Jim was talking, I wondered "would Jesus have turned the tables in the temple if the merchants had been selling Fair Trade products?"
No comments:
Post a Comment