Parades, Feminism and Krak

Today was our first full day in Matagalpa, Ernesto's hometown. We started off the day with delicious pancakes in the hostel, surrounded by the blonde heads of fellow Australians. (Actually not sure if they're Australians, but that's what we've surmised, based off their level of tan and "surfable feet structure.") Fiona had a glorious moment leaving the hostel in which she failed to close not only the first door, but also the second - requiring the front desk attendant to chase after her and show her how to use a basic lock that she should have learned in Girl Scouts.

Really, though, after breakfast we walked through Matagalpa to Ernesto's sister's restaurant. Housed on a cacophonous, colorful street, the restaurant jittered with the caffeine of humanity. It's also worth noting that the balcony provided a panoramic street view - (foreshadowing!)

Here we met with Sergio Simpson, a journalist and commentator on the Sandinista revolution. Sergio has had 26 years of experience in Latin American reporting, and has been especially concerned with the corruption and political movements of the region. We were particularly impressed with his objectivity, as Andrea put it - in describing the Sandinistas, for instance, he said that the Sandinistas easily could have turned out to be disastrous, and that it's always difficult to tell the direction of movements. That's hard to admit. One of Fiona's favorite moments was also when he said, "Lo que es, es," in describing the truth: relating to the world is not about philosophical understanding, or touting knowledge in someone's face, or trying to climb up a ladder to an ultimate Capital T Truth. It is what it is. Observable, emotional, pieces of our daily lives.

We ate lunch in the restaurant, where Tom only ordered rice and beans, explaining that he feels uncomfortable feasting every day completely separated from the locals. We agreed this was really important to take forward with us. (He also quizzed Fiona on Irish slang, although that was arguably less profound - though take note that "krak" means "to have fun" in Irish. E.g. "What good krak we had.")

We then met with a Matagalpa feminist leader, interspersed with watching the Palm Sunday parade below. What stood out to us most from our long discussion - aside from her obvious intelligence and incredibly good humor - was how different the feminist movement in Nicaragua is from that of the United States. In particular, the intense influence of religion changes the conversation: as she said, the most common argument against abortion is the simple phrase "abortar es matar." What are the implications of such an easy, blanket statement? She explained that the feminist vocabulary is so difficult to explain, requires so much backstory and empathy, that easy phrases like "abortar es matar" necessarily overshadow much discourse. We see this in the U.S. as well, and there's definitely overlap with the religious differences, but the terrifying simplicity of the phrase still struck us.

A walk up several treacherous staircases brought us to a sunset, leaking out over all of Matagalpa. We chatted about frostbite and nuns, among other things.

One of the themes that probably comes through from this post is the humor that permeates this trip. Although many of the discussions are heavy and bring up enormous questions of our roles as the oppressor and the oppressed, religious and not religious, activists and yet complicit members of the system (and what "system" are we even describing, amongst many?), the group dynamic has allowed for wonderful moments of lightness.

This is important. As we ended our day with the discussion of what makes us feel alive, laughter abounded in both discussion and reality. We feel thankful that today was full of thinking and painful reflection, as well as joy: they are not so divorced.

- Fiona and Hencye