Near Rivas Nicaragua
Debbie of Retired & Rewired in Nicaragua recently posted The Decay of Dignity and triggered a memory from four or more years ago when I was passing through Rivas Nicaragua. Rivas was my timeout spot, where I threw on the brakes and rested while making the required 72-hour ‘border exits’ out of Costa Rica to keep my passport in good standing.
Rivas Nicaragua – the Bustling Morning Market
I often chose Rivas over the highly-popular San Juan Del Sur because I wanted to immerse myself in a typical Nicaraguan town untainted by tourists. I usually rested the first day, ventured around the town on the second day, took the ferry to Debbie’s beloved Isla Ometepe on the third day (for lunch and to see the museum!) then prepared to return to Costa Rica on the fourth or fifth day. Most every morning I arose with the chickens and explored the streets in search of photo moments in the early-morning light.
(Note the shoe-shine guy that’s sitting on the wooden stool.)
On several previous trips to Rivas, I crossed paths with a weathered man with a perpetual ‘fool-on-the-hill’ manner that made me wonder what drug had fried his brain, or if a lifetime of drinking home-brewed sugar cane liquor destroyed his mind a little at a time. I don’t enjoy photographing misery or the dark side of a man’s character, but this man photographed well; he had presence! Perhaps there was more to this man with the foolish smile?
One morning I spotted him walking up the sunny side of the street, and I stopped (on the shadow side) and prepared to photograph him as he passed.
“Click,” went my camera when he stepped into range.
“Click…. click,” it captured several more steps.
The Sunny Side of the Street
Just as he passed across from me, he halted, pivoted 45 degrees and faced me. Looking directly into my eyes, he smiled, bowed slowly, then turned and resumed his walk.
Early Morning – Rivas Nicaragua
Until the next time we meet!
On another trip, I was hurrying to the local print shop and stepped around him on the shady side of a sidewalk. Not taking time to acknowledge his presence, a smaller part of me obviously did. (Daily Prompt: Gut Feeling) While in the printers, I kept thinking about the man, and something seemed wrong – perhaps out of place.
After leaving the printer’s, I shopped for a few items in the supermarket before checking out of the hostal. As I waited in line, my thoughts kept returning to the man, half a block from where I stood. On impulse, I added two ice-cream sandwiches to my modest purchase, then walked around the corner and hoped he would still be there.
He was sitting there with his back against the wall and his legs stretched out in front; a small plastic bag beside him held a few items. He watched as I peeled part of the paper wrapper from the ice cream sandwich then handed the sandwich to him. He held it and looked with suspicion as I peeled my ice cream and took a bite.
I asked, “What is your name?” and he continued to stare at me.
Nearby, the shoe-shine man laughed and replied in English, “He says that he is crazy!”
“But he’s not a drunk, is he?” I asked. When I raced by earlier that day, I glimpsed several small bottles of fruit juice in his plastic bag. He didn’t have alcohol as I had assumed!
“No,” the shoe shine guy replied, “His name is Maestro Gabriel, and he was a great teacher… until the earthquake hit and the roof fell on his head. He’s been crazy ever since.” With that he laughed and asked for part of my ice cream.
Maestro Gabriel continued to look up at me with suspicion, so I said, “Goodbye” and left him with the melting ice cream sandwich.
As I walked toward the hostal, Phil Collin’s song played through my head as tears welled in my eyes.
I’ve not returned to Nicaragua since that experience, but when I do, searching for Maestro Gabriel will be top priority. Just as high on the list will be visiting Ometepe and seeing Debbie and Ron, who will surely help with the search for the Maestro.
Looking across to Isla Ometepe – Ron and Debbie, are you there?
Please visit Debbie’s post that triggered this story:
http://retirenicaragua.wordpress.com/2014/12/07/the-decay-of-dignity/
The take a sensitive cyber step into a nursing home for a touching story here:
http://kindnessblog.com/2014/12/05/kindness-and-cookies-for-a-forgotten-lady/
And if you’re not comfortable interacting with complete strangers, enjoy Linda/Rangewriter’s heart-warming post to see how random acts of kindness recently affected her, and how those acts have the potential to domino!
Linda – Rangewriter: http://rangewriter.wordpress.com/2014/11/30/random-acts-of-kindness-squared
It’s really easy to extend a warm smile to someone who has less than you or to leave a thoughtful gift that might enhance the quality of someone’s day. Pause in your hurried day and stop to speak to a young child or to a frail or lonely person.
I try to always stop and speak to this dear friend in Jama Ecuador.
Once when painting a small watercolor sketch in San Juan Del Sur, I stopped working when an older sea captain ambled along and visited for a while. He was fighting cancer and said as he left, “Thank you for taking time to talk to me. You helped me forget about my pain for a while.”
San Juan Del Sur Nicaragua
We all have gifts to share, and it’s our duty to be kind to our fellow man.
Why not?
Z
I will never feel tired of listening the story of this man. Wonderful post Lisa and very nice song. hope to see you soon amiga
i’ve witnessed you being kind to many, dear silvana. keep dusting your trail with kind acts while standing up for what’s right in this world! see you in a few weeks! z
wonderful stories. Showing kindness, takes barely a minute of your time, costs you nothing and is priceless. Hugs amiga
you two definitely understand that concept, and it’s so true – it costs nothign and is priceless. thank you for being you!
Z, your quote in bold at the end says it all. Even the smallest kindness acknowledges a humanity between people. I love the title “The Decay of Dignity.” As you note, your dignity and faith may be all some people have. Muchas gracias, Z. BTG
Debbie just posted an update about today’s march against the Nicaragua Canal project. She definitely stands up with a strong backbone, yet also has gentle compassion for her neighbors. z
What a lovely photo-essay. I found the man’s face fascinating — as I did your wonderful story. Thank you for brightening my day — again.
Yes, Maestro Gabriel has a noble face, and the day that he turned and silently geeeted me is one I will never forget.
I’m still wiping away the tears from your story and the links. Gracias Z.
dear margo!
of course this would affect your kind and sensitive nature! thanks for checking out the stories. you surely have some of your own!
z
Ah, you’ve brought back memories from half a century ago in Tegucigalpa, when shoeshine boys would eagerly ask gringos if they wanted a chaine.
ja! i”m glad this triggered some great memories! thanks! z
Lisa, I am so touched by the story of Maestro Gabriel. I have to go to Rivas next week, and I’m making it my mission to find him. I’ll treat him to an ice cream sandwich in your honor. 🙂 Thank you for this heartwarming post. I’m glad that my post triggered these memories for you.
If he’s still in the Rivas area, you will surely find him! Sending strong vibes to your area today; I hope that the march is effective and proceeds without violence. Are the international television stations covering this?
You have such a true heart. I love you for that. And I’m most honored to find my little offering sharing space with your larger world. (And I love this song.)
you have a kind heart as well, dear friend! i hope that the weather is bing kind, and if you’re still enjoying the bell gift, then its purpose for now is to bring you joy!
you’ll know when it’s time to pass it to the next unsuspecting stranger! (there’s a long-but-touching story behind that little nugget of wisdom)
Knowing a person’s story is almost like walking in his shoes–how can you not feel compassion for someone who has been through so much? Thank you for an excellent post and an important reminder.
yes, if we knew the not-so-pleasant stories behind every person, we would not be so quick to judge. stories like the maestro’s help us to remember to give the benefit of the doubt.
thank you, and happy holidays!
I too like meeting strangers on my travels. I would rather not meet the crazies though. It was nice of you to offer the ice cream. I like the street images you shot, z.
yes, the true crazy ones make me cower in the shadows, but not too far back for fear there’s an even crazier one deep behind the shadow!
during another stay there, i did see a crazy guy that was slinging a stick and slamming light posts and structures as he came up the sidewalk.. i was having breakfast on a terrace, and i grabbed my camera and stood near some foliage and took photos as he ambled closer. he spotted me and came across the street (holding his stick up in anger) and i cowered back. an onlooker on the other side chuckled, as did i, when the man resumed his original direction and continued up the street.
Lovely story, Lisa, with special photos to accompany the words.
thank you, amiga. i’ve not been back, but i think of him often. debbie is going to look for him this week when she’s in that area. z
I couldn’t think of a single reason, Lisa 🙂 A smile costs nothing. How sad for the former teacher. Thank you for sharing your kindness.
people like that remind me to be grateful for my health – mental, spiritual and physical, as we never know what we would do if we were suddenly walking in those shoes.
thank you, and happpy holidays from the riverhouse!
z
And to you, sunshine lady 🙂
“Local” colour is much more my style than “tourist trap”!
ah, ditto for me. i do not like going to trendy areas – i am there to experience the culture, not a transplanted culture! it’s nice to find an area where the transplants have quietly weaned into their new area, and to see the new area embrace them.
I completely agree! If I wanted McDonald’s and Gap, I could travel to the mall and be home in time for dinner!
❤
Glad you got the ice cream for Maestro.
One day I saw a man holding a sign asking for food. On impulse, I went to Burger Kin and bought him a big burger. He was incredible grateful for it. After I left I realized I should have bought two and joined him for a meal.
ah, but the memory will stick with you, and next time you’ll enjoy an even-richer experience, as will the hungry man. z