All's quiet on the western front...

Sometimes the absence of a noise is as disturbing as the noise is itself. That’s somewhat how I’m feeling at the moment…the booms have stopped. Managua is always a noisy city but right now, the noises are more than the sound of blaring car horns, buses belching exhaust and motorcycles ring-a-ding-dinging as they weave their way through the ever-present traffic. The booms we’ve been hearing for the past week have been fireworks, mortars or a combination of the two. This is a city in turmoil which is escalating to upheaval unless the two opposing political parties can achieve some kind of agreement for a peaceful coexistence.

Barrios in the some of the poorest parts of the city are becoming rock-throwing battlegrounds. Machete wielding vigilantes threaten their enemies…many of whom are neighbors, co-workers, even family members. Roads have been blocked and traffic brought to a standstill. Businesses have closed due to the riots. Blood has been spilled with countless injuries and several deaths. This is a passionate country comprised of passionate people. And this past week, their passion has boiled over.

Last week’s mayoral election results have been the igniter for this potential implosion. There have been numerous allegations and accusations of voter fraud. There were voters who say they were threatened, voters who were tagged as voting earlier in the day when they claim they had not yet cast their ballots, figures that were supposedly altered, voting locations that closed early, large numbers of ballots that were supposedly found in the trash, and so on. The typical kind of thing when the losing party doesn’t accept defeat at the ballot box…the problem is, the opposition party says they have proof of all of the above and they’re fighting back…through the courts, through the media, through the international community and now, through the city streets. This stuff makes Florida’s hanging chads seem like a sandbox dispute.

Now I see this in several ways. I know how the news outlets love to play this stuff up. After all, that’s what sells papers and glues people to their favorite news channels. And we have been able to travel all throughout the city all week long without so much as one incident. But we have tried to be smart in our travels. We avoid the areas that are known trouble spots. We don’t go out after dark and we keep our doors and gates locked at all times. Not much different than traveling or living in any major city in the U.S.

The other side of that is this stuff is real. This country has a history of being pillaged by its own leaders. There is a faction that says enough is enough. It is crying out for the people to stand up for themselves and to quit being oppressed. Funny thing is, that’s the same battle cry of the current government. The ruling authorities have taken good care of their supporters and have a publicity (or propaganda, depending on how you view it) department that can hold its own if compared to any other heads of state press corps. There seems to be a lot of inciting going on. And meanwhile, it’s the same story it’s always been in politics like these…the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. And just like a well-thought out chess game, the pawns are being played to perfection and are sacrificed as necessary.

Thankfully, we live on the far west side of the city and up until today, all the action has been taking place in the central part of the city. Today, the road blocks made it here to the South Highway, just ½ block from where we used to live. Seems the opposition party had a meeting planned with some officials so they could show proof of election fraud. Apparently, the ruling party blocked the highway with semi trucks so that traffic could not pass either way. Another one of the many roadblocks throughout the city was held at the base of our “mountain”…right in front of a police station. Since there weren’t any moving violations, I’m assuming the police didn’t get involved. That was dripping with sarcasm, in case you missed it. I’m afraid my opinion of the folks in blue isn’t very high. Well, now I have to retract that statement…Jim said the news just showed one of the riot police throwing a rock at one of the incidents and then running. I laughed. He then said it wasn’t a rock, but a tear gas canister. Maybe so, but the rock story seems more plausible.

The odd thing about all this is we didn’t know anything about any of today’s events until we got several phone calls and Jim turned on the news. And we just live a couple of blocks back from the South Highway! We’ve been cautioned to stay in tonight and perhaps even tomorrow. As a result, we may have to cancel our time with Miguel this week. He works close to one of the trouble spots. It’s unusual that this kind of protest would make it out to our side of Managua. These protests don’t usually affect us on this western edge of town. And if it weren’t for the constant booms and periodic sound of sirens, we could easily pretend that none of this is happening. After all, that’s what most of the world does with any kind of elsewhere-conflict unless it has a direct impact on a nation. But we can’t ignore it. It’s what’s happening here and the increase in the frequency of the booms is the constant reminder we’re in a nation that’s pushing itself to the brink.

Nicas love their fireworks. You don’t see the big fountains or rockets bursting in the air, showering down sparks and streams of colored fire. But you do hear the deep, resounding boom of their explosives. And they will add those booms to any kind of celebration…or apparently, any kind of protest. But now, they’ve added mortars. Many are home-made jobs, but according to some of the news sources, there are some military type mortars being fired as well. Either way, it’s a level of protest that shouldn’t have been reached. I don’t know how this is going to be settled without further casualties. They’re going too far here. I hate fighting. I hate what it does to people inside and out. The ones who will win this “conflict” certainly won’t be the ones who are fighting it in the streets, I can assure you. The dirt they bear on their hands doesn’t come from picking up rocks. I think it’s most likely coming from dirty money.

I’ve been thinking about something. We were told that this country is filled with missionaries and that it is considered a Christian nation. I can understand the first part of that statement. I’ve never agreed with the second. If that were true, would any of this be happening? Is this loving your brother as yourself?

I had someone ask me on the phone today if I was afraid. The answer tonight is no. The booms and the sirens are still far away. This fight is not mine. It’s someone else’s. Much like it was during the times of civil unrest in our own country in the sixties and seventies. Those scenes on the television were mesmerizing. But they didn’t touch me. I was safe in my own home. Like now. We’re safe in our own home. That’s the answer tonight.

For awhile tonight, the booms had stopped. I had hope. They’ve begun again. I guess that means the people in the streets have their own hopes, although obviously different than those of the guy on the other end of the rock, the machete or the mortar round. I suppose a suggestion to settle differences with three fast-paced rounds of rock, paper, scissors would be out of the question. There would be no boom.