Travel Notes: Tranques for the Memories

When the tranques (barricades, TRANK-kays) first appeared, the big rigs pulled to the sides of the road to allow local traffic to pass, understanding that halting commercial transport of goods was the primary aim of the stoppage.  The little tuk tuks and bicicletas could pass, as well as motorcycles and taxis. Even the microbuses could manage to get through, going up one-way streets, on sidewalks, inching along just microns from the next vehicle.

No more. Today, the tranque returned to Las Esquinas, and the big semi tractor-trailers are stopped at all angles -- some actually parked perpendicular to the road -- to thwart every effort to pass through. In some cases, the rigs are parked so tightly to each other that even skinny pedestrians cannot pass. I do not blame them. Vegetables are rotting in their rigs, orders are likely being canceled. This is all very bad for business.

This morning, I caught a passing bicicleta to Las Esquinas, intending to take a bus to San Marcos to return some books to the Keiser University library. Somehow, by zigzagging through the standing trucks, we made it almost all the way, only to find that no buses could get through to San Marcos. I asked one of the tranquistas, a young guy with a bandanna masking his face, how far the stopped vehicles extended down the road to San Marcos . He thought perhaps a kilometer, and was quite sympathetic. So, I decided to walk as far as I could to see if, at some point, motitos were helping to get people into San Marcos. The tranque was composed of stacked paving blocks, and a large log, still smoking from being burnt. Other men helped me over the log with utmost courtesy, and I started down the road past the big rigs. Many drivers had slung hammocks beneath their trucks or between roadside trees, and were taking advantage of the opportunity to grab some zees. People were selling drinks and food. Eventually, it was clear that I would be halfway to San Marcos before the road opened up, if ever, so I turned back and found another bicicleta to take me home.

This photo of the tranque at Las Esquinas is from an article in the website Confidential.com.ni

Two hours later, the backup had reached well beyond my front gate. No traffic is headed north toward Managua. Hard to believe it's the PanAmerican Highway.

Looking north, toward Managua.

Looking south toward Diriamba

I have seen online posts that say gasoline is both scarce and costly. Some shelves in grocery stores are empty. The tranques are beginning to hurt ordinary Nicaraguans. Restaurants are closing. Tourism-based businesses are being shuttered. I've heard that banks are running out of money. Jobs are disappearing all over the country. When and where will it end?

Post scriptum, next day:
Maria José accompanied me as I tried again to get to San Marcos. We walked to Las Esquinas, where I bought some cold Cokes, which we passed out to some of the tranquistas. We continued on foot to Santa Clara, about two miles from my house. There, we were able to get on board a microbus which took us into San Marcos. Keiser U. was open, but only one entrance was available, another half-mile walk to the opposite end of the campus. My dogs were aching! We later went to the bank, so I could prepay July's rent, stopped at the grocery to buy Scotch (it had little else on offer) and we went to Casona, a nice restaurant, empty of customers, for lunch.

We grabbed a ride back to the line of trucks, about a half-mile out of Las Esquinas, and made it home on a bicicleta. With four new books and two bottles of whiskey, I'm set for the next week or so.

P.P.S. Monday, 11 June
Maria José informed me that there is no propane left in Diriamba or Las Esquinas, save for five filled tanks still available. Normally when I need propane, I exchange my empty tank for a filled one , but with half a tankful still, I decided to shell out $60 to purchase a filled tank, which should see me through September. Daily, I thank my lucky stars for Maria José.