I look forward to this sandwich all year. The day after Thanksgiving, I along with most other folks in the US, always have a turkey sandwich for lunch. Roasted turkey, stuffing baked in the bird, cranberry sauce on whole wheat bread. Sometimes, there isn’t enough stuffing left and the sandwich is just not as satisfying without it. You can of course buy a turkey sandwich with the Thanksgiving trimmings any day of the year in Seattle at Bakeman’s. It is not the same.
We had plenty of leftovers from our impromptu Thanksgiving feast. I sent a lot home with Moni, but I was careful to save enough for the sandwiches. I made us each a fat sandwich to eat on the way to the beach. Leon, founded the same year as Granada and her rival in politics and colonial architecture, was on the way. We drove to the central squareand parked in front of the police station. We found a bench among the snow coneand hot dog carts and had our picnic overlooking the lion fountain in front of the basilica.
We were going to just skip Thanksgiving. The plan is to take advantage of the two days the kids have off from their American school for the holiday to explore a little more. The rest of the school kids in Nicaragua are starting two and a half months of vacation, but I am hoping that my sons don’t notice. We made reservations in Jicillio for Thursday and Friday night so that we could be back here for a day of rest and catch the first night when the Virgen leaves the Cathedral for Purrisima.
But as I checked in with friends back home talking about children coming home, making big dinners, trying new recipes, I started to have these moments of longing. The vision of rain pouring down, windows steaming up with cooking, welcoming travelers produced an immediate compression in my chest and made my eyes sting. After days of deflecting these sensations and concentrating on the wonders at hand, I decided to make a little Thanksgiving dinner Wednesday night before we go to the beach. I invited my Chilean/Danish neighbors over. I went to Price Club and bought a butterball. Now I would never eat a butterball in the states, but I haven’t been able to find a fresh Chompipe (Nicaraguan Turkey) here. Everyone says, “Oh yeah, you used to be able to get those, now people just raise them themselves in their own house.”
I was discussing fresh poultry and bemoaning my lack of access to it with Moni (a frequent topic of discussion between us). She told me families usually raise their own chickens for Christmas dinner or buy them live from the market and slaughter them at home. She said, “If you don’t like killing and cleaning them, I can do it for you.” I convulsed with laughter. As if killing and cleaning chickens was just one more domestic task I could now afford to hire out. But of course I must have done it before when I didn’t have any paid help. I tried to explain to Moni that I am the second generation in my family that has never killed anything to eat. So now I am on the look out for a hermosa (a word I used to think meant pretty but actually means plump here) chicken or turkey to bring home to Moni.
As for tomorrow’s menu, in addition to the butterball, apple pie, mashed potatoes, salad and rolls. Moni will be here all day to help.
We were already in a state of heightened anxiety over the marches planned for Saturday, and then Thursday night we got this from the embassy:
“The Embassy reminds U.S. citizens that even demonstrations intended to be peaceful can escalate into violence. American citizens are therefore urged to exercise caution. Activities observed during past demonstrations include, but are not limited to the use of tear gas, rubber bullets, firing of improvised projectile launchers ("morteros,") rock-throwing, tire burning, road blocks, bus/vehicle burning, and other types of physical violence between law enforcement and protestors or between rival political factions.”
The kids had plans to go to the movies after school at the mall right by ground zero of the protest and we decided not to be paranoid and told them they could go ahead with their plans. But then at 11:00, the Chief of the National Police announced that they were going to clear out the Sandinistas (their own party) out of the rotundas by force if necessary. Sometime Friday afternoon. I called Thelma in Miami to see what she thought. We agreed movie viewing was not a good idea. I called the kids to tell them that they needed to come right home, but could move the party to our house. Since Hobbes (Thelma’s son who was staying with us for the week) thinks I overreact, I was really gratified when he told me his great grandmother had called him at school to say, “You aren’t still thinking of going to the movies are you.”
Hobbes brought his friend over here and I was really happy to have my family gathered around me at the Shabbat dinner table instead of worrying about them in Managua. They cleared the rotunda out at 7:00, but it was quite peaceful.
In fact, despite all of the threats and posturing before the marches, both went off “without incident.” Thousands of citizens united for democracy in Nicaragua protested the fraud of the last election, the establishment of the dictatorship, the abuse of the constitution, state sanctioned violence against the opposition and Daniel Ortega and his families personal abuses of power. They stretched out over a mile long, wearing Nicaruagua’s blue and white, carrying copies of the constitution, photos of their heroes – Sandino, Camillo Ortega (the good brother) and other revolutionary matyrs and Alexis Arguello, the Sandinista mayor that is widely believed to have been assassinated for starting to talk about the election last year. There would have been a lot more people if they hadn’t been afraid for their lives and if they had had access to the resources theOrtegistas did. The police had a very strong presence.
The Sandinistas filled municipal buses from all parts of the country and brought them to Managua, leaving no public transportation for the opposition. The marched to celebrate last years election “victory” and upcoming anticipated election victory. Masked youth shooting homemade mortars started out the march while some official explained it on TV as a folk custom. Red and White was everywhere. The masks are pretty funny because these are people who belong to the dominate party that has absolute control. They have no need to hide their identity.
Everyone is very relieved there were no major incidents. Sandinistas shot mortars at departing buses of the opposition, but no major injuries. Daniel replaced the Head of the Army. More wacky antics from Rosaria who tooled around the celebration of the people in her Mercedes Benz.
I went to pick up my made to order linen wear from Marisol embroidery. The dress is really sweet and fits perfectly. The blouse was almost done when I arrived; they had to do the embroidery, but they did that while I went to buy a purse at the market. I was talking to the daughter of the family business and I asked where the fabric comes from. She said the 100% linen and cotton fabric is made in Guatemala or El Salvador. Some people use fabric from China, but not us, only Central America. She said, we used to get fabric from Nicaragua, but they don't grow any cotton anymore, there is no linen. Since the 80's. She was wearing a beautiful blouse made of cotton home spun cotton. This blouse she said, was made with fabric they used to make in Granada. I'm really careful with it because it is from the last of that fabric.
There are rows of abandoned factories outside of many towns here. Granada's are lined up along the cemetery road to Catarina. Many of them closed very recently. After the last election. I know this is the story everywhere; change happens. There is no textile business in the US anymore. But here all that was lost has been replaced with nothing at all. For some reason, the shuttering of the little cotton factory breaks my heart.
Jules suddenly announced last week that he thought he had a fever and sure enough, he did. Figuring it was probably H1N1 because he wasn’t sick enough for it to be dengue, we quarantined him in his room and kept the soup and tea coming. I wasn’t worried about him so much as Cristina and Moni, our pregnant maid and cook, who are at a higher risk of complications than the general public. I told them to stay away from him and his room. As our house is open, I figured they weren’t really in danger working in other parts of the house, but I gave them the option to stay home. That really mystified them. But he’s not very sick they said. Yes, but it most likely is H1N1. Well he doesn’t seem that sick to me! I tried to explain the pregnancy thing, but they thought I was overreacting. They also didn’t understand why I didn’t take him to the doctor. Nicaraguans always go to the doctor whenever they are sick and get a shot. But if it wasn’t H1N1 I didn’t want to take Jules to the germ ridden environment of the local clinic. He also wasn’t sick enough to warrant driving into Managua to the good clinic.
Fever came back in two days, but Deb said that wasn’t a relapse, it was just the course of the fever. He stayed home two more days. Then after a day free of fever, I sent him to school for two days. Friday school was cancelled due to the H1N1 outbreak so they could clean the school. It seems they are about a half a year behind the states. The note said to keep the kids home and monitor them for symptoms, but of course my children along with most of the other kids at their school went to the movies.
I actually think it is all over Granada but everyone is so convinced it is a serious flu and no one thinks they have it. It is also not at all unusual be having a casual conversation with someone, say someone who is handing you some food in a store for instance, and say, how are you? Oh, they say, I’m so sick, I feel terrible, I’ve got a fever and chills and this horrible cough. as they pull out a dirty towel and hack into it.
Everyone throughout Granada is sick, but they all say it is a different virus. Or the change in temperature. Meanwhile, in the US, they are saying that most of the colds and flu going around are H1N1. After another conversation yesterday where I tried to convince someone they should be careful but they totally didn’t listen to me, I am done. I will now be a respectful visitor and not try to force my way of thinking on people.
When the kids went back to school on Monday, they reported that few kids were out of school. Maybe the closure was effective.
Cristina had her baby on last Friday, everyone is fine.
We have been here four months now and I can definitely feel myself changing from a visitor to a resident. Everything is still wonderful and all, but for instance now I am just as happy to send Moni to the market and skip the pleasures of its sights and smells. I shout no gracias at people who come to the door selling things. I used to go all the way downstairs, have a pleasant conversation, get them a glass of water and more often than not, buy whatever it is they had to sell. I let fewer children in to swim in the pool. I balk at anything that costs 200 cords, even after I remind myself it is just 10 bucks. I stay in during the heat of the day. I am sometimes tired of beans and rice.
I still always see something that seems so odd each time I walk out my door. The other day I saw a woman walking down the street holding a small shrub over her head like an umbrella to walk in the sun.
It is getting dark earlier, around 5:30, but it is oh so different than the shortening days are in Seattle. Our balcony looks out over red tile roofs toward the central square. We can see the Mombacho volcano to the South. I have promised myself that I will pause and take a few moments to enjoy the sunset whenever I am home because even though there are still many days left, it is still a finite number. After the sun sinks behind the cathedral domes, my neighbor’s mango trees fill with birds. Right now there are enormous numbers of these scissor tailed swifts that are called tijeretas swooping around. Probably because of the large number of mosquitoes and gnats. They fill the sky for a few moments and then settle into trees all at once and you can hardly see them. Then a wind comes or a firecracker goes off and they become a cloud on the wind currents. Smaller flocks of little green parrots, chocoyos fly by making a racket. Yellow guïs sit on the roof ridge and make their distinctive sound, which is guïs. About this time, the neighbor’s yellow cat usually walks by on the roofs.
Just as the swifts are settling, the bats start to fly out. At first there are just a few zigzagging silhouettes among the graceful birds, but then they start to pour out of the roof peaks of the adjoining houses and are eventually lost in the approaching darkness. Cathedral bells ring and church bells answer. Dinner smells drift up to the balcony. We sit for a little longer and then Moni calls us to eat.
ar. The day after Thanksgiving, I along with most other folks in the US, always have a turkey sandwich for lunch. Roasted turkey, stuffing baked in the bird, cranberry sauce on whole wheat bread. Sometimes, there isn’t enough stuffing left and the sandwich is just not as satisfying without it. You can of course buy a turkey sandwich with the Thanksgiving trimmings any day of the year in Seattle at Bakeman’s. It is not the same. 
olice station. We found a bench among the snow cone and hot dog carts and had our picnic overlooking the lion fountain in front of the basilica.
