within the first 5 minutes of meeting sofana i knew i liked her. she had managed to stop the car to have words with the garbage men about extorting money from extranjero hostel owners; proceeded to tell me about how as a kitchen manager at the hostel, a coca-cola representative tried to charge her more by providing a bogus conversion rate between dollars and cordobas which she threatened to go public with; and how, despite opposition and little cooperation, she has plans for a community health clinic in playa gigante, nicaragua.
sofana was born and raised in managua by a staunchly socialist mother and a free-market capitalist father. as she aptly remarked, she heard both sides of the story growing up. sofana said she isn’t as radical as her mother who still protests at the age of 73, but she believes something with the current state of capitalist affairs must change. as our conversation shifted to a broader discussion of poverty and why some countries just can’t seem to “get ahead” sofana told me, “it’s like a dog chasing its own tail. they (other countries) don’t pay us for our work and then they charge us more money for stuff—we can’t escape it…people now in the united states feel like they are in a financial crisis, which may be true. but for us in nicaragua it has always been a crisis. it’s no different now.” after sofana told me many nicaraguan’s make about $35 USD per month she said, “how is that ever going to be enough? it’s not.”
nicaragua is the second poorest country in the western hemisphere behind haiti. but the notion that so many countries are impoverished (especially those so close in proximity to the US) sometimes doesn’t sit well with us. and so we often say some comments like those i heard describing nicaragua-- “it doesn’t look that poor,” or “the people look like they have food,” or the most frequently heard comment, “the people are so poor, but they are so happy” (as if their happiness excuses the poverty).
i don’t think it’s ever a good idea to compare oppression. even though i have lived in poor places in the united states, it is different here. some of the issues my neighbors faced in oakland (not being able to feed their kids, wondering if there would be work, etc) are similar, but it is exacerbated on a level here i can’t explain. i remember before i left blacksburg a very wise woman (hi, nancy!), when recounting her daughter’s peace corps experience, said she didn’t think americans were prepared to see truly impoverished places. nancy’s right. to deliver food to families in guatemala that have 10 people living in a house the size of small bedroom is overwhelming. or to face the uncomfortable fact that my monthly coffee budget is about the same as the minimum wage monthly salary for a nicaraguan. something with this is not only uncomfortable, but wrong.
but i think that’s why it’s important to see poverty. to talk to people and to try to understand--not in a voyeuristic tourism way, and not in some sort of paternalistic aid manner, either. but in a way that reminds you/me/us, that US foreign policy, international trade agreements, and where we shop (you knew i was going to say it) affects the lives of people we may never meet. and for me, it serves as an ever-important reminder that no country or person needs us to “save” them--there are many sofana’s around the world organizing for change in their communities. so i am thankful i am uncomfortable. poverty should be uncomfortable for those of us privileged enough to not live in it.
