The Hostel. We had been in Managua for two weeks interviewing the leaders of the revolutionary party, the Sandinistas, and other political parties. There were three faculty members and 9 students in our group and we were staying in a hostel near the compound of Daniel Ortega, the leader of the Sandinistas. We would always chat with the guards at the entrance to his compound as we would come and go. By the third day we were bringing them food from one of the local street merchants after a long day of interviews. They were so very appreciative and began to tell us bits and pieces of their life stories. The hostel was sparsely furnished but it could hold about 30 people and provided breakfast and dinner, although we were the only ones there at the moment. In addition to rooms that each held 6 people, it had several conference rooms. The courtyard in the back had several mango trees that provided fruit for our meals. Several local women cleaned the rooms and cooked for us. I loved talking to them about their lives and their dreams for their children. We had already interviewed several Sandinista leaders, union leaders, and others including Father Ernesto Cardenal, the poet of the revolution and former Minister of Culture, and his brother Father Fernando Cardenal, the former Minister of Education. Both were Jesuits who followed liberation theology which I found so fascinating.
Two days before we left for Granada, a group of nuns who were attending a conference moved into the hostel. I couldn’t sleep that night because of the heat and I wandered into one of the conference rooms that contained a small library where I saw one of the nuns reading at one of the tables. I sat down next to her and we introduced ourselves. She preferred being called Sister Ani. Thank goodness she spoke English as my Spanish was never really up to par. The wrinkles in her face and her weathered hands indicated that she had worked hard her entire life but it was clear that once she started to speak that her labors were of pure love.
She was a nurse by training and as a nun had been a missionary to the poor in Latin America for 51 years. She was very much influenced by Vatican II and the Latin American Bishops Conference in Medellin in 1968 and was a believer in liberation theology.
“One of the young ladies that cooks here told me that you are a professor of political science.”
“Yes Sister, I teach in Indiana. We are all here to learn more about the Sandinista revolution and what has happened to it since they were voted out of office 3 years ago.”
“There is certainly much for you to learn. I would urge you to listen carefully to all with whom you speak and observe everything closely. That includes the women who work in this hostel, your bus driver, those that sell food in the streets, those that work in the local stores and the open-air market, the local priests, and the coffee pickers in the countryside. They all have a story to tell and a story for you to hear. Don’t limit yourself to political and labor leaders and the rich landowners.”
She continued, “Focus on how the poor are treated and if and how they are able to assert their basic human rights. Those are the two major indicators of how well off a country is.” I thought to myself that she is a very keen and experienced observer of society.
“Entonces, que estas haciendo aqui?” I asked.
She laughed, “English will be fine my professor friend. We are meeting here for two days with nuns from across the country that work with the Sandinistas in helping to organize the poor. We not only help the poor become self-sufficient economically but also educate them about their political rights as citizens. It is something I’ve done throughout my life in Latin America starting in Brazil during the military dictatorship. The poverty and the need is so great here. Helping the poor is what I believe should be the primary role of any Christian. All one has to do is to look at the life of Jesus. Whom did he help? The poor, the marginalized, the outcast, the widows, the sick, and foreigners. They were his preferred people.”
“So you are also involved in the political process by teaching people what their rights are and how to exercise them?”
“Yes, my sisters and I are. Jesus told those in the synagogue to “let the oppressed go free.” That is overtly political. In fact, everything that Jesus did was political, so why should our activities be any different? I believe the Catholic Church should support revolutionary activities in the face of overwhelming oppression and naked violence by governments. This is something that many in the Catholic Church or Christians in general in the United States can never understand. They are completely unable to relate to the oppression, the violence, and the indifference to suffering here or in other parts of the world.”
We talked on through the night over cold coffee although I did most of the listening and she did most of the talking. Sister Ani had come to Nicaragua in 1984 during the civil war and had helped organize several US citizens groups who were living and working with the poor. She became a close friend to Ben Linder, the US citizen and engineer, who had been working on an electrical plant near El Cua hoping to provide electricity to the locals. He was murdered by the US supported Contras in April 1987. She spoke of other friends, teachers and nuns, who were also murdered by the Contras in the 80s.
“Do you ever get tired and frustrated with your work in the face of all this oppression and poverty? Aren’t you afraid of being murdered?”
“Of course, I am human. Many of my friends perished in Brazil at the hands of the military and I am a witness to the same here in Nicaragua. It is heartbreaking, difficult, frustrating, exhausting, and frightening. It seems that progress is measured by one step forward and two steps back. But it is who I am, it is who Jesus wants me to be, it is my passion.”
The cook, whose son had been killed during the revolutionary years of the 70s, had arrived just as the roosters in the courtyard were welcoming in the morning. She served us some gallo pinto and fresh, hot coffee for breakfast. It was so good. Sister Ani noticed the time and laughed and said she must take a little nap before the conference starts at noon. She touched my hand and said, “I have much hope for you.”
That evening I continued to chat with Sister Ani. We left the next day and spent the next month in Granada, Leon, Esteli, Masaya, and Matagalpa. When we returned to Managua, I found that Sister Ani had returned to Chinandega to continue her work. The night before we flew home, we went to one of the local bars in Managua that was frequented by people working for various international groups that were in the country helping the poor. There was singing and people got up on stage and recited poems by Ruben Dario and Father Ernesto Cardenal. Carlos Mejia Godoy sang his revolutionary songs and we all sang along. We got to know several people in a group from Denmark. The English-Spanish-Danish language communication was hilarious, and I loved the evening. The passionate spirit of Sister Ani was there.
One of my closest faculty friends was sitting in on my Latin American Politics class the following fall. He had sat in on the class a couple of years ago but wanted to sit in again knowing I had spent the summer in Nicaragua. He pulled me aside one day and said that I had changed. You’ve always been a passionate teacher, but your lectures are even more passionate than ever and there is more of a focus on the lives of the common people. I thought a minute and said, “Sister Ani is to blame.” He looked at me with a puzzled look on his face. “I’ll tell you over breakfast at my place tomorrow. We’re having gallo pinto and fresh, hot Nicaraguan coffee.”
Note: Gallo pinto is essentially rice and beans and could be considered the national dish of Nicaragua. Eggs are typically added when it is served for breakfast.
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