Author: Anke Fängewisch
Photography: Jimmy D. Mendieta

© Jimmy D. Mendieta. All rights reserved.
“…the true beauty lies in the people and what they represent, even in the midst of difficult circumstances.” – Anke Fängewisch

It was just a brief encounter in the middle of every day’s life, but it made me think afterwards. The sickly looking older woman asking for money on the street wanted to know where I was from. When I told her she was amazed. Why would I ever want to live here? Isn’t it much more beautiful in Germany? I explained that my home country is indeed beautiful, but that Nicaragua in my opinion is as well. She didn’t buy that. “It is not nice here”, she declared vehemently. I couldn’t agree and encouraged her to find the beauty in her own country. Back and forth we went, and even in the end there was just an incredulous “Do you really like it here?”

Shortly afterwards I am on my way home. On my faithful bicycle I cross a “barrio”, a neighborhood in the town of Jinotepe. The little chat with the lady still rings in my ears. Is it beautiful here? I look around. On the right and left side of the street full of potholes (I have to watch out, a big scar on my knee reminds me of my last fall…) are the houses; most of them we would categorize as shacks. Here and there the smell of sewage waters enters my nose, mixing with that of the trash, in which some bony dogs search for something to eat. Dressed with next to nothing a couple of dirty little children play unsupervised on the street. Their runny noses are a typical sight this time of the year. Even now in the late morning you can see drunk people. It is not difficult to discover the Nicaragua of the beggar.

© Jimmy D. Mendieta. All rights reserved.
Oxen drawn cart.

And yet I didn’t lie when I insisted that I find this country beautiful. In the middle of the houses speaking of poverty, tropical blossoms in brilliant colors are thriving. Carefully a hen is leading her chicks around puddles and broken glass. Again and again I can see the creativity of the inhabitants of the country I find beautiful. Some greenery and flowers, carefully planted around the houses, a wall painted in bright colors. On the next corner, several young men are engrossed in their game of chess. Life happens out on the streets, so a group of women is chatting in front of their house, making sure not to miss anything going on. The children find fun and play in spite of everything. A handful of them are pulling their small sibling on a cart along the bumpy road. A little later the “barrio” ends, and I bike through the fields that lead to our town Diriamba. This is where the coffee grows; some red berries are ripe in the bushes. Mighty trees, maybe centuries old, tower above them. Huge trumpet shaped blossoms hang limply in branches, at night they will unfold with an aromatic fragrance. I pass another bicycle on which, I don’t know how, a whole family manages to find room. A few horse and oxen drawn carts can also be seen on the dirt road. Arm in arm three barefooted boys are walking by me, grinning, surely up to some mischief. I can’t help but grin back at them.

This is the Nicaragua I see.
Can it be understood that I like living here?

About the Author

Anke Fängewisch, originally from Germany has been calling Nicaragua her home for over ten years. Her children were both born in Nicaragua, making them proud “pinoleros”. Together with her husband (from Guatemala) and a small team she started the “Semillas- Amigos de la Niñez” (“Semillas-Friends of Children”) Foundation to support education and give children and youth the chance to discover their potential. They run two libraries and learning centers and have mobile programs in the rural area. Their work can be checked out at www.semillas-bca.org and on Facebook they can be found under “Semillas Bibliotecas”.