With Eyes Wide Open

Now that I have been in Managua for over a month, I am seeing Managua with fresh eyes. The poverty hits me harder, the sights have consequences. Window washers at intersections are not annoying, they break my heart. Not that I haven't seen this kind of poverty before; it's the number of children that hit me the hardest. Kids walking around with no shoes asking for "un peso", begging for you charity, as if one peso will help. I still don't know what to do. It surrounds you. What can one person like me do? I feel like we are responsible for our potential. We need to do what we can. It's figuring out what that is that is the hardest. With all my intercultural training, we are taught to mirror the actions of nationals, take cues from those around you. But somehow I feel this may be different. Not that one meal will change the problems these kids face everyday, but it's something. It may be what I have to give.

Last week, Lauren and I led a tour group of young American girls through Managua. We took them to a place where about a thousand people live, basically squatting in front of the National Assembly. Over five thousand people have been affected by a pesticide by the name of Nemagon. The people that live in what resembles a refugee camp suffer from ailments; cancer, lesions, genetic mutations, and several other related diseases. They have been there for several years, in protest of the inaction they have received from their government and foreign companies that made them work in such close contact with the chemical, without care of the ramifications. The girls broke into smaller groups, and walked around, asking people their stories. Each story sounded familiar and sad. At the end of the day, I am just left with questions. Always more questions.