“Hoy es el mañana que tanto te preocupaba ayer.”
“Today is the tomorrow that had you so worried yesterday.”—graffiti in Managua Six a.m. Monday morning in Managua; the sun’s barely up but it’s already hot. People are heading to work, congregating around unmarked bus stops. Some bus stops even have bays now, but the buses can’t always be bothered to pull into them. The backs of the men carry knapsacks, and those of the women have wet patches from their just-washed hair. The men’s backs may well be sweaty, and the women’s, dry, by the time the bus comes.
Ambulatory ‘breakfast’ vendors, on foot or bicycle, are selling coffee and simple white breads. Soon the fruit-seller women will arrive with their baskets and stools (and maybe a patio umbrella for shade), to camp out at the bus stops all day.
There’s reportedly only 7.4 per cent unemployment in Nicaragua, according to a 2012 figure from the National Central Bank, but it takes only a day in Nicaragua (the poorest country in Central America) to see that this figure is light years away from reality. If you include the underemployed, or informal sector—folks like the breakfast and fruit-sellers who are barely breaking even—the figure rises to a much more believable and frequently cited 54 per cent of the working-age population.
A recurring dream I have of Managua is waiting at an intersection with the vendors moving towards my side of the car. That’s nothing unusual, but after three or four vendors, they keep on coming—it’s a never-ending line of closed faces filing past with their wares. My dream always ends or moves on before I can see if the line of vendors ever ends.
Some people would say that an added benefit of a former Managua mayor’s pet policy of replacing intersections with roundabouts was the elimination of street vendors there. But other, previously less busy intersections are now slow enough to accommodate all those vendors. On my way to work, there are two roundabouts and the several sets of traffic lights allow me a chance to get my windshield cleaned and to glance at the newspaper headlines the vendors hold up to drivers.
Sitting at one intersection, I get ready to duck as I see a young guy (grasping his windshield wipers and other saleable items in one hand) deftly lob a single-serve bag of water at a buddy. The friend reacts laughingly to the soaking, and then pulls his spandex sun protector off his arm to wring it out.
A national news analysis program once reported that one-córdoba-per-bag water vendors can earn more in a month than teachers in Managua. (It takes 25 córdobas to equal one Canadian dollar). But teachers themselves often work more than one job because they’re paid only about $200 a month. That said, a young fellow who’s been ‘working’ at the same intersection for as long as I’ve been driving to the office has switched to selling cell phone accessories
As for that graffiti—Today is the tomorrow that had you so worried yesterday—I can’t help thinking that it would better apply to North Americans than to folks here. Nicaraguans take things as they come. They don’t expect life to be easy. Tomorrow may not take care of itself, but there’s too much to handle today to be worrying about what mañana may bring.
About Denise VanWissen
Denise VanWissen is a missionary in Nicaragua, working with SOYNICA, a PCC partner organization, as Nutrition Advisor. She has enjoyed experiencing Managua’s growing pains, including increasing traffic, for the last 21 years.
