More than one post-mortem here, actually. I'll start with the apparent solving of the recent murder here in La Boquita. Some good police work yielded evidence that produced a confession, and the pieces began to fit together. It turns out that the victim had been surreptitiously sedated. Once the drug was identified, a survey of pharmacies yielded the identification of the purchaser of the drug with which a glass of wine was laced. As suspected by those who had known of the victim's relationship with the young woman, it was indeed she who confessed to the plan to drug and rob him with the help of some young male accomplices. The drug did not last long enough to complete the robbery, and the victim awoke to discover the plot, and lost his life as a consequence.
Christmas in Latin America sounds a lot like the Fourth of July in the U.S. In the latter case, the old "bombs bursting in air" allusion to warfare would seem to explain the American penchant for firecrackers, sparklers, and Roman candles on and around Independence Day. But how to explain the deafening reports of explosions and amateur pyrotechnics that pepper the nights leading up to and culminating on La Noche Buena (Christmas Eve) in Mexico, Nicaragua, or Peru (to name a few countries of which I have personal knowledge)? Was the Star of Bethlehem imagined to have been a nuclear attack? Were the shepherds keeping watch by night with gun powder lanterns? Were Joseph and Mary, in fact, terrorists? I checked a few web sites in search of an explanation for this practice, and found only acknowledgment that fireworks and other explosives are indeed a Latin Christmas tradition.
I recall a Christmas Eve in Lima, Peru with my son's grandparents. Gabe was about six years old, and we clambered up onto the roof of the house, like thousands of other Lima residents, and lit cherry bombs and firecrackers -- cuetes, they are called. (The next day's Christmas earthquake easily surpassed the cuetes in memorability!) They have cuetes in Managua, too. I spent Christmas Eve with Erlinda and Ivan, and we enjoyed a stream of visitors, mainly family, who stopped by throughout the evening, for drinks and conversation punctuated by explosions and whistling bombs. Strictly speaking, the evening should have culminated with a midnight meal, followed by presents, but we were all famished by ten, and I was the first to cave in to exhaustion at not quite midnight. The rat-a-tats and boom booms continued without me. For all I know, I was dreaming I was in Anytown, USA, running for my life from some pathetic mass-killer wannabe trying to make a dent in history without actually having to accomplish anything worthwhile.
I admit I was bluer than blue with all the holiday hoopla, and I am grateful to Erlinda for saving my sanity with her kind invitation. Now I just have to make it through New Year's Eve. Ah, yes, sleeping pills will handle that nicely. Here, at least, one can be pretty sure that the sound of firecrackers and cherry bombs in no way involves firearms. Is there a town left in the US where this is still true?
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
Stirring the Compost
After beginning and ending the month of November with most welcome visitors from Texas and Mexico, respectively, and all the attendant activity implicit in providing a good time, I find myself idling. The date on my computer says December, yet here we enjoy perpetual summer, and my only taste of December chill is the Pittsburgh forecast I hear as I listen to WESA, the NPR provider I continue to hear (and support) via the internet.
Christmas, Shritzmas
I went cyber-shopping for holiday gifts for my son and my other Stateside family members here on my porch the other day. I have a few more things to buy locally, and although the Diriamba stores and businesses are crammed with Christmas decorations to admire and purchase, it is simply too abrupt a juxtaposition of summer heat and greenery and Santa's warm furs and sleighs, fer chrissake, to feel even a molecule of christmas spirit! Oh well, it is a holiday for me so little connected to its religious origins, and so deeply tied to my late parents, that it has meant little more than an opportunity to shower my son with gifts. And, he being elsewhere, even that pleasure has lost some of its luster.
Beautiful Church
The day before she left, friend Tey went with me to explore the big church in Diriamba, whose basilica is widely considered to be the most beautiful in the country. Pope John Paul II visited there, and the church is the home of the big Festival of San Sebastian, held over eight days each January. Here are some of Tey's photos:
Flying Machines?
Here, by the sea, I have never had so unobstructed a view of the big blue sky, and yet I never ever see a contrail of a jet passing overhead! There simply is no coastal air corridor in this region; sometimes,in Pennsylvania, I could count eight or nine white stripes at a time of jet trails headed for Pittsburgh or Chicago or other points west. Here, I see only the rare passing of a pair of military helicopters, patrolling the coastline, I suppose. The dogs go berserk, and the noise is considerable, but it lasts only seconds, like an earthquake.
A Sense of Unsafety
The aforementioned violent murder of our Canadian neighbor ten days ago and the more recent robbery of another nearby house has put us all on edge. Our cuidador has lectured me on locking my doors punctiliously, even if I take an afternoon nap. My laptop and phone are never to be left sitting on the back porch if I am not using them, and no keys are to be left in doors. All good advice, despite the tall wrought-iron fencing that surrounds the compound. Living in a country where so many live in wretched poverty, it is sensible to assume that some robbery, if not most, is occasioned by familial need. Desperation is a powerful force. I hope these security measures become second nature soon, as the mere act of doing them is disconcerting to my peace of mind.
Sorry
Lastly, an apology: My camera's lithium battery finally died for good, and getting a new one from the States may take some time. It has been ordered, and now I must rely on hook and crook to get it. So, unless I manage to take an acceptable shot with my phone, photos may be scarce for the nonce.
Christmas, Shritzmas
I went cyber-shopping for holiday gifts for my son and my other Stateside family members here on my porch the other day. I have a few more things to buy locally, and although the Diriamba stores and businesses are crammed with Christmas decorations to admire and purchase, it is simply too abrupt a juxtaposition of summer heat and greenery and Santa's warm furs and sleighs, fer chrissake, to feel even a molecule of christmas spirit! Oh well, it is a holiday for me so little connected to its religious origins, and so deeply tied to my late parents, that it has meant little more than an opportunity to shower my son with gifts. And, he being elsewhere, even that pleasure has lost some of its luster.
Beautiful Church
The day before she left, friend Tey went with me to explore the big church in Diriamba, whose basilica is widely considered to be the most beautiful in the country. Pope John Paul II visited there, and the church is the home of the big Festival of San Sebastian, held over eight days each January. Here are some of Tey's photos:
Flying Machines?
Here, by the sea, I have never had so unobstructed a view of the big blue sky, and yet I never ever see a contrail of a jet passing overhead! There simply is no coastal air corridor in this region; sometimes,in Pennsylvania, I could count eight or nine white stripes at a time of jet trails headed for Pittsburgh or Chicago or other points west. Here, I see only the rare passing of a pair of military helicopters, patrolling the coastline, I suppose. The dogs go berserk, and the noise is considerable, but it lasts only seconds, like an earthquake.
A Sense of Unsafety
The aforementioned violent murder of our Canadian neighbor ten days ago and the more recent robbery of another nearby house has put us all on edge. Our cuidador has lectured me on locking my doors punctiliously, even if I take an afternoon nap. My laptop and phone are never to be left sitting on the back porch if I am not using them, and no keys are to be left in doors. All good advice, despite the tall wrought-iron fencing that surrounds the compound. Living in a country where so many live in wretched poverty, it is sensible to assume that some robbery, if not most, is occasioned by familial need. Desperation is a powerful force. I hope these security measures become second nature soon, as the mere act of doing them is disconcerting to my peace of mind.
Sorry
Lastly, an apology: My camera's lithium battery finally died for good, and getting a new one from the States may take some time. It has been ordered, and now I must rely on hook and crook to get it. So, unless I manage to take an acceptable shot with my phone, photos may be scarce for the nonce.
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
Mayhem and Murder
The modest temblor chronicled in the last post seems likely to be related to even more dramatic geologic activity that has ensued in the vicinity of Lake Managua. Majestic Vulcan Momotombo sits on the northern shore of the lake, opposite the city of Managua, and provided my friend and me long lovely vistas en route north to Leon last week. It smoked in the morning, but as we passed on our return trip, it was quiet. Then, two days ago, a blast of gas and ash erupted from the flank of the cone. Within 24 hours, pyroclastic outflow and spouting lava were visible in the night sky, and the residents of nearby La Paz were being evacuated. Corresponding seismic activity was also being recorded throughout the volcanic episode, which, as I write, continues.
Momotombo has not had such a significant eruption in well over a century; it remains to be seen if the event will end quickly and if the volcano will be noticeably changed.
The lives of foreign residents of the Carazo coast—extranjeros—were jolted as well this past Monday morning. Word spread quickly about the apparent murder of one of our number, a Canadian national well-known to the expat community as a successful businessman who spent time each year in his waterfront villa, just a long city block from our house. He had arrived for an extended visit just about three weeks ago. He dropped by to chat with my landlady, who introduced us. I did not get a chance to know him. He was my age, single, with a daughter in Canada. He had what seems to have been a sort of relationship with a young Nicaraguan woman 40 years his junior.
She was with him Sunday night at his house. The cuidador, or security guard, was away, and several young men entered the property and tied up the owner and killed him via blows to the head with a large pipe, possibly a fire extinguisher, according to rumor. The woman was also tied up, according to the newspaper accounts. The man's SUV was missing, presumed stolen. There was a power outage that night—I know, because I could not sleep without the electric fan. It meant that the property's security cameras were not functioning. The vehicle was found the next day, miles away, abandoned.
Today, the newspaper reported that the young woman and four young men have been arrested. This would bear out the suspicions of many of the expats who posit that the man was hoping to pursue a more satisfactory relationship with someone who suited him better. If the young woman suspected she was soon to be dropped, well, it seems not a great leap to imagine what might ensue. Her mother defended her in the papers. The incident sends a chill into Nicaragua's efforts to attract extranjeros to invest in living here. We all expect a speedy resolution, in the interest of demonstrating the country's zero tolerance of this crime. Let us hope justice is also served within those time constraints.
La Prensa ran this upper foto on day one, and later that night, the second view.
The lives of foreign residents of the Carazo coast—extranjeros—were jolted as well this past Monday morning. Word spread quickly about the apparent murder of one of our number, a Canadian national well-known to the expat community as a successful businessman who spent time each year in his waterfront villa, just a long city block from our house. He had arrived for an extended visit just about three weeks ago. He dropped by to chat with my landlady, who introduced us. I did not get a chance to know him. He was my age, single, with a daughter in Canada. He had what seems to have been a sort of relationship with a young Nicaraguan woman 40 years his junior.
She was with him Sunday night at his house. The cuidador, or security guard, was away, and several young men entered the property and tied up the owner and killed him via blows to the head with a large pipe, possibly a fire extinguisher, according to rumor. The woman was also tied up, according to the newspaper accounts. The man's SUV was missing, presumed stolen. There was a power outage that night—I know, because I could not sleep without the electric fan. It meant that the property's security cameras were not functioning. The vehicle was found the next day, miles away, abandoned.
Today, the newspaper reported that the young woman and four young men have been arrested. This would bear out the suspicions of many of the expats who posit that the man was hoping to pursue a more satisfactory relationship with someone who suited him better. If the young woman suspected she was soon to be dropped, well, it seems not a great leap to imagine what might ensue. Her mother defended her in the papers. The incident sends a chill into Nicaragua's efforts to attract extranjeros to invest in living here. We all expect a speedy resolution, in the interest of demonstrating the country's zero tolerance of this crime. Let us hope justice is also served within those time constraints.
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