Home again?

Wenatchee, Washington

Subject: Estoy Aquí
Date: Sunday, 14 July 1996

Hi there:

I’m home in Wenatchee.  
It’s hotter here than it was in Nicaragua the last month.  Yesterday 106, day before 107, 87 this morning when I left the Cascadae and it’s early yet.

I lost 20 pounds when I was there and I’m uglier than sin now.  There aren’t a lot of mirrors there, and when I’d catch a stray glance at myself I always assumed it was a distortion.

I’ve been having an awful time since I’ve been back.  It’s such a let-down after the long hours and constant work-work-work and think-think-think of Nicaragua.  I feel as if I left things unfinished down there and it’s hard to get into another mode of operation.

My time in Nicaragua was wonderful and I wasn’t ready to come home.  I desperately needed another couple of weeks to wind things up.  Or a couple of months.  Who knows how it would have ended?  I can only say I want to go back.  Soon, like tomorrow.  I haven’t finished down there.

I had a wonderful time, but Nicaragua will make you cry.  You’ll cry because they have so little and have no hope of getting more.  You’ll cry because they still manage to live good lives, can laugh and joke, can be kind and thoughtful to each other and to strangers like me, and you’ll feel so ashamed of the privileged life you lead that you really have done nothing to deserve.

I can’t believe how attached I got to the people, but when I think of how they treated me it’s no wonder.  But it isn’t only that; it’s the uncomplaining make-do and the good spirit they have.  I guess you could say I got emotionally involved.

I was in constant conflict with myself all the time I was there.  It’s against the rules for me to give anybody anything, except maybe buy food once in a while.  I did buy a lot of food at times, especially when I was at Ana’s.  Once in a while I’d slip Cecilio 20 cordobas or so – that was after I found out they hadn’t been  paying him because he wasn’t producing colchas, even though he was working all day long on the looms.  That’s less than three dollars, and I told him not to say anything to the others, but he was doing a good share of my work; he made me successful, if I was successful.  But there would have been resentment if they’d known I was paying him anything.  After I asked Danelia about it, she did give him 20 Cs one week and a couple of weeks later he got 50 Cs.  It’s 8.50 cordobas to a dollar.  He did get his lunches as they all did.

They had a Despedida for me that last night, a “farewell”.  Rosa Maria cooked a marvelous dinner that we had at Danelia’s house.  Lee was going to come pick me up at 3 a.m. to get me to Managua in time to catch the 7:30 a.m. plane.
Darned if they didn’t stay all night.  I went to bed for a couple of hours but I didn’t sleep, though I did rest. .  Didn’t have to keep my brain in gear anyway.  But they played music, talked, laughed and sang most of the night, only getting a little quieter after one a.m.  I had to come and join them.

So here I am, still in Nicaragua up to my neck, what with the school project I still intend to do something about and soon, and Jorge and his crippled leg, and Cecilio and his education.  I’m 74 years old and I don’t have much time, but if I can make a difference in these lives, lives that are just starting out, maybe my time there has been worthwhile.

I love those people.

Thanks to all of you who helped make this possible for me.  I love you all.

Elaine.  No, it’s still Elena at this stage.  Elena